


Deliver Us From Evil

by TheLiveshipParagon



Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU (Comics), Hellblazer, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Death, Demons, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Exorcisms, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Genderbending, Genderswap, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Hell, Humor, Hurt Frank Castle, Kindred Spirits, Loss, Loss of Faith, Magic, Mash-up, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spells & Enchantments, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLiveshipParagon/pseuds/TheLiveshipParagon
Summary: Frank is saved from the Kitchen Irish by Daredevil and runs into John Constantine who seems to keep cropping up in his life when he leasts expects it.





	1. The Burning Furnace

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a bit out there for me because I usually just do reader inserts but I actually dreamt this chapter so I just had to write it out and see if it made any sense as a fic
> 
> (Proof reading errors likely)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx

 

“We have to go, Frank,” Daredevil presses as he starts shoving the marine towards the end of the hallway. “Their back up will be here any minute.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Frank growls, the pain in his foot almost unbearable.

Getting a drill through his tendons was not one of Frank’s top ten torture pleasantries. Already he was hobbling far more than he’d like and with his eye swelling up he was having to rely on Daredevil more and more. That was pretty unacceptable right now given that he was only knocking the Kitchen Irish out rather than putting them down for good. Red really didn’t understand how the world worked.

“I can’t take them all on,” Daredevil huffs before hoisting most of Frank’s weight on his shoulder as they hurried their shambling descent through the warehouse. “And you’re in no state.”

“Just fine, Red,” Frank snarls. “Fuckin’ A. Now quit bein’ like my ma and point me to the damn exit.”

“See if I save your ass again,” Daredevil mutters sourly.

“ _Don’t_  next time,” Frank says viciously. “I ain’t ever asked for your help, don’t want it now.”

“You know you really are ungrateful,” Daredevil turns to him, those strange orange lenses glinting in the dim light.

“Ain’t nothin’ personal. I just got my mission n’ when it’s over, it’s over,” Frank shakes his head. “Ain’t nobody needin’ to be nice to me, save me.”

“So help me God,” Daredevil sighs, still half dragging him.

He comes to a dead stand still and Frank’s half ecstatic for the rest and half concerned they’ll get surrounded.

“Whatsamatta?” Frank questions before he gets shushed harshly.

Red was obviously hearing something he couldn’t because all Frank could hear was the pounding of his own heart, his own laboured breathing.

“There’s a woman here,” Daredevil says hurriedly. “Sounds like she’s being tortured. She’s screaming.”

“Kitchen Irish ain’t usually got beef with women,” Frank notes. “Ya gonna just stand there or what?”

“Thought the great Frank Castle had his own mission,” Daredevil says a little pissily.

“I may be an asshole, Red but I ain’t about to let a woman die,” Frank frowns. “Now take me there. None a’ these bastards get to take another life again. Not on my watch.”

“Well alright then,” Daredevil nods, leading him down several winding corridors.

  
  


**

  
  


He heard it when they got a little deeper in, the harsh guttural growl of a female in pain. There were words also but he couldn’t make them out just yet.

“There’s two in there with her,” Daredevil stops him before a doorway. “One in front of her, one behind. Take the one in front.”

“Got it.”

Frank doesn’t argue. He’ll probably be better at a direct brunt assault and leaving the acrobatic shit to Red. He wasn’t going to be doing any flying leaps in his condition.

“Go.”

He bursts through the door, grabbing the first guy in a bear hug, slamming him back against the wall whilst the streak of burgundy dashes past him, jumping over the chair and dropkicking the burly man standing there, holding a noose tightly around the woman’s neck.

Frank was just about to dash the guy’s brains in when he heard a 'tsk’ sound from Daredevil and just settled for knocking him out. Fuck, Red was more preachy than a pastor.

“She alive?” Frank asks, finally looking at the figure bound in the chair.

“Breathing, badly bruised on the torso, no internal bleeding though. Broken finger I’m guessing,” Daredevil does that thing that completely freaks him out.

He hobbled over to her. She looked like shit. Blood was just hanging in ribbons from her lips and it was staining her aggressively blonde hair dark red. She was wearing what looked like a man’s suit with a tie and everything but the shirt was no longer white.

“She get outta a’ business meetin’ or somethin’?” he notes.

“Maybe she was in a rival business to the Kitchen Irish,” Daredevil muses. “Think you’re okay to walk on your own whilst I carry her?”

“Yeah yeah, do what ya gotta do,” Frank nods, still finding the girl a little odd to take in.

The second Daredevil places a hand on her shoulder, she jerks up with a shuddering gasp, slamming her foot straight into Frank’s thigh. He’s surprised to note she actually packs some power.

“It’s alright, we’re here to help,” Daredevil tries to calm her down, yanking the noose over her head and away.

“Bollocks you are!” she squirms against her bonds. “Untie me you cowardly twats n’ I’ll show you what a fair fight looks like!”

British huh? That was unexpected too. She definitely had some fire in her though which Frank kinda liked. He wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of guiding some hysterical person down through this maze.

“I promise you, we’re not here to hurt you,” Daredevil says more firmly, coming round into her field of vision.

Through the matted curtains of hair, she peers at both of them, an expression of bemusement coming over her.

“Didn’t realise they had a Halloween division,” she snorts. “New tactic? Trying to scare the goolies off me so I’ll talk? Well you can cock off.”

“For the last time-” Daredevil gets frustrated.

“Look Ma'am, we’re just tryna get outta here. Same as you. I ain’t been drilling my own goddamn foot that’s for sure. So we’re gonna untie ya and you can either join or go your own way,” Frank interrupts.

She seem to take more notice of him, nodding silently whilst casting an assessing eye over him. She was definitely shrewd.

“Go on Red, let her out,” Frank nods.

The zip ties are cut open and she winces, rubbing the point where they’d bitten into her skin before standing up confidently and marching exactly five paces before her legs gave out a little and Frank had to catch her.

“Easy, easy,” he reassures her. “Torture ain’t somethin’ ya can just walk off that quickly. Take it slow.”

“Fucking hell,” she growls, clinging to his arm as she rights herself. “Oh come on, you’ve survived worse than this shite.”

She appeared to be talking to herself, pepping up her mood. It was a good coping technique and Frank recognised the face she was making, the face of past trauma. Whoever she was, she’d already been through a lot.

“Gangbanger?” he asks and she turns to him sharply.

“You what?”

“Do you run with gangs?” he explains.

“Jesus Christ, mate. That means summat a bit different where I’m from,” she lets out a small laugh. “Nah. Nah this lot just caught me snooping in their books,” she cricks her back into place.

“Why?” Daredevil asks.

“Wouldn’t believe me if I told you. More about settling a score,” she shrugs. “Let’s just get out. I don’t fancy being shish kebabed again.”

“Do you need help?” Daredevil offers.

“I’m rosy,” she flashes a grin which somehow manages to be quite charming despite her appearance. “You got names or shall I go with Grievous and Meathead?”

“Ohhhh she got jokes,” Frank chuckles. “I like her more than you already, Red.”

“Then get a damn room,” Daredevil sighs exasperatedly. “Let’s go.”

“I’m Frank. That unfriendly asshole over there is Red. Make sure you are god fearing or he’ll bible thump ya to death.”

“God fears me these days,” she says with an enigmatic smirk. “I’m John. John Constantine.”

“John?” Frank questions. “Really?”

“Can you tell me dad wanted a boy?” she just gives a look that says she’s had to explain this a million times already. “Just roll with it, lad.”

“They’re coming. We need to go,” Daredevil says suddenly, cocking his head in one direction. “Down the hall, go go!”

She bolted out faster than Frank would’ve given her credit in her condition and he felt a little emasculated that he couldn’t keep up.

He may have just said some suicidal shit about dying to Red and being left there but something about this woman….he just felt an automatic kinship. When she said she had a score to settle, Frank could see the same pain in her eyes that he saw every day in the mirror.

She’d lost someone.

She’d lost someone close.

When they hit a chamber that opened into the main body of the warehouse,  Frank knew they’d taken the wrong turn. They’d just directly walked into the main body of the crime gang.

“It’s him! It’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen!” one cries.

Daredevil pushes John behind himself, protecting her.

“I don’t need you to do that, mate,” she says seriously.

“I don’t need another body on my conscience,” comes the guilt stained reply.

“Let me tell you a little summat about God,  _Devil_ ,” she hisses. Clearly her pride was wounded.

She rolls up the blood sodden shirt sleeves revealing strange occult looking tattoos and Frank’s slightly apprehensive about what’s going to happen considering a bunch of the Kitchen Irish are racking their pistols and forming a line.

She reaches into her trouser pocket pulling out an old fashioned bronze lighter and clicks it, fire sparking high and then….

She transfers it to her fingers where the ball grows brighter and then opens her other hand to reveal a second fireball.

Frank wasn’t sure if he’d lost so much blood his mind was gone but even Red seemed to take a step back before she just gave a tiny smirk and said things in a language he didn’t understand.

When she whirled around, the flames formed into a giant pattern, racing towards the gang members and they fell backwards over themselves. Many were scorched, some burned instantly. She didn’t leave many alive.

“What did you do?!” Daredevil yells, his head darting this way and that at the sounds of dying men.

“I’ll tell ya. God doesn’t give a shit,” she says darkly. “He abandoned us a  _long_ time ago.”

“What are you?” Frank asks, equal parts afraid and curious.

“Heaven’s whipping post,” John replies blankly before saying more words and the cries of the dying ceased instantly. “This is the part where people run.”

“You….you smelled different just now,” Daredevil seems completely rattled. “What…”

“Hell left an imprint on me,” John pulls her shirt out of the trousers to show two rows of claw marks, diagonally situated on her waist, almost like a beast had grabbed hold of her there to steady her. “I’m not entirely human. Now go running to your priest. That’s what every other poor bastard does that can’t handle my world.”

“Come on, Frank,” Daredevil motions, moving to the exit.

“Who was it?” Frank questions, his curiosity driving him to know more, his fascination with good and evil and justice still playing in his mind. “Who did you lose?”

“A man. I man I loved,” she says quietly. “You?”

“My family,” Frank answers. “You just wiped out some a’ their killers.”

“I’m right sorry, lad,” John turns to him, that charming twinkle obviously masking some pain there. “Didn’t mean to take it from ya.”

“Are they dead?”

“Dead and where they’re supposed to be,” she answers, staring at the pile of bodies.

“Then thank you, Ma'am,” Frank nods graciously.

“You’re not frightened?” she notes.

“It’s New York,” Frank says with a wry smile. “Ain’t gotta walk a mile 'fore you find someone gifted, though I ain’t ever seen somethin’ like that.”

“It’s magic,” John returns the smile. “Been at it since I were knee high to a grasshopper. Go on now, Frank. You’d best get your pal there out before he cacks himself any more. I’m sure knowing Hell is very real prolly gave him some great bloody life questions.”

“What are ya gonna do?” Frank starts walking over to Daredevil.

“Find what I came here for,” John cagily answers. “Burn this place to the fucking ground.”

“Good luck with that, John,” Frank says.

“Good luck with your thing too, Frank.”

He turns his back and he can already feel the heat from the flames she was producing, destroying any evidence that they’d been there at all. He felt grateful for that. At least Red wouldn’t get in shit for helping his sorry ass out.

“Be safe, Ma’am.”

He had no idea why he said that as he walked out of the door.

This strange British girl with the bible complex and terrifying powers….he really did feel like there was a kindred soul there and he hoped she found peace, whatever she was looking for.

  
  


**

  
  


It was done. It was done and now he didn’t know what to do.

His family’s killers were all dead. Every. Single. One. 

Now what?

He got himself a labour job, just something to work out his frustration at life, his frustration at being left behind. It occupied his brain so much that he’d even get up at 3am, just to not have to dream about Maria any more.

He hated being in his shitty little apartment, the neighbour’s always arguing all the goddamn time. He would give anything just to have a stupid argument with Maria again….

He got back after a shift, his knuckles dusted, his palms blistered and weeping. His hair and beard was covered in sweat and brick powder but he didn’t care. He wasn’t trying to impress any one.

He got in the lift, too tired to make it up the stairs, his foot playing up again.

Someone was there, a pretty blonde woman in a tan trench coat, cigarette tucked behind her ear, looking for all the world like a 40s detective in a film noir.

“Goin’ up?” he asks cordially.

Just because he was being an antisocial bastard lately didn’t mean his ma hadn’t ever instilled manners in him.

“I thought it were you,” the woman gives a lopsided grin. “Hello squire. Been a while. Like the facial hair.”

It was her.

He hadn’t recognised her without a face full of blood and gore but it was her.

John Constantine.

“What the hell?”


	2. The Lake of Burning Sulphur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last person Frank Castle expected to live in his apartment block was John Constantine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Demonic imagery, so much swearing  
> Pairing these two together is like my dream for characterisation  
> Happy reading guys  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Proof reading errors likely)

“Here on business?” she asks him casually enough.

“No,” Frank grunts.

“Chatty aren’t you?” she raises an eyebrow with a smirk on her face.

“What are ya doin’ here?” Frank questions.

“I live here,” she answers. “You?”

“I live here,” Frank parrots. “Is that a coincidence or are ya followin’ me?”

“Calm your tits, lad,” she rolls her eyes. “I didn’t know you lived here. Surely me reaction just now gave that away. I’ve been here about three months ever since I banished a poltergeist from the penthouse. Owner of the building let me stay up there as a thanks.”

“So you just…..came here naturally?” Frank rubs his beard, feeling very self conscious of his appearance now.

“ _That’s_  what you pick up on?” she wrinkles her face in confusion. “Not the part about the poltergeist? You are right unusual Frank.”

“You remembered my name?”

“Jesus H Christ, what is this? Question Time? Is David Dimbleby going to pop out into the lift any time now and ask me opinion on Brexit?”she snorts.

She had a funny sense of humour, quite dry and scathing but Frank found he liked it quite a bit. It was refreshing in a sense for someone to be a cynical and sarcastic as he was.

“I don’t have a fuckin’ clue what ya just said, Ma'am,” Frank admits.

“It’s a political panel show,” she explains with a wry grin. “Very stuffy and very dull. So ask me something fun, if you remember me name that is.”

“How can a guy forget a girl called John?” Frank leans back against the elevator doors. “'Aight, I’ll bite. I ain’t fuckin’ surprised about poltergeists since ya made fuckin’ fire appear from ya hands. There ain’t nothin’ I assume about the world these days. So…..this is me.”

The elevator stops at Frank’s floor but he finds he doesn’t really want to get out just yet. He just can’t find an excuse to stick around and besides….he looks like shit.

“See ya around, John,” he taps his hand to his head in a lazy salute.

“Frank?” she calls after him.

“Hmmm?”

“You need anything, you know where I am.”

He turns to see a genuine expression of warmth on her face, so unlike the cocky smirk she usually portrayed.

“Did ya do what needed to be done?” he asks and watches her features twitch in sadness.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s done. You?”

“Done too. I just….”

“Don’t know how to carry on?” she guesses.

Of course she would understand, she lost someone too. In fact the look she gives suggests she’s lost a  _lot_  of people.

“Yeah,” Frank admits.

“You just do,” she says a little quietly, fiddling with her tie. “You eventually find new purpose or….you don’t. People deal with it very differently.”

The elevator doors start closing and Frank finds himself putting his hand on them to stop the progress.

“Penthouse?” he asks.

She nods, “Yeah I’m in the penthouse. Any time, Frank. Just knock. I feel like we’ve both been through the mill enough to understand one another.”

“Thank you,” Frank says genuinely before letting the doors finally close on her serious expression.

  
  


  
  


**

  
  


He thought about the offer the next day he was at work.

He could easily switch off whilst he was hammering away so he mulled over whether he should pay John a visit. This wasn’t like the offer that Curtis had given him, an offer where he could just talk about war and death and PTSD. This was an offer to talk about grief and loss and revenge. Frank understood that a whole lot more than war these days.

“Hey it’s the gimp,” one of the obnoxious assholes that works with him snorts as he passes. “Got anything to say, huh?”

Frank keeps silent like he always does. In fact, the conversation with John had been the first time he’d used his voice in about two months. He was surprised anything came out other than croaks and grunts.

About lunch time, an almighty scream comes from the top of the structure and Frank sees someone thrown with great force off the roof where they arc down into the cement mixer, striking their head with a fatal clunk on the side of the container.

“What the fuck?!” come a chorus from the men working below him and they all rush out.

Frank went straight to the top though, expecting to see someone there but there was nothing. There was no physical way someone could get past him on the lower level without being seen. So what happened? The guy couldn’t have jumped that far with that velocity.

Frank just chalked it up to odd events and went on with his day before going home, reading and sleeping.

  
  


**

  
  


The next day, someone got dragged underneath a bulldozer despite being across the yard and nobody operating the damn thing.

It was getting strange now.

Why were so many deaths happening just now? Why were they so odd?

Frank finished his shift and went back, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally came.

  
  


  
  


**

  
  


The next day when someone got impaled on rebar, everyone downed tools and left, superstition kicking in.

The second someone mentioned ghosts, Frank knew exactly where he had to go.

He couldn’t let the construction site be shut down when it was his only source of income and the only thing keeping Maria and the kids out of his mind. For his own sanity, he needed help.

He took the elevator to the penthouse, knocking briskly on the door.

He heard no answer and wondered if she might be out but there was a slight giggling coming from inside. He knocked again.

“One second!” he heard John call before there was a great amount of rustling.

Finally she opened the door, clad in a long woollen black bathrobe and she seemed flushed.

“Oh, Frank!” she says in surprise. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“I can come back if I’m interruptin’?” Frank makes to move back.

“Nah it’s alright, lad, hang fire,” she turns before going back into the penthouse and he hears her talk to someone before a girl with rumpled hair gives Frank a polite smile before getting into the elevator.

_Huh, she must be into girls…..but then she did say she lost a man she loved. Maybe she don’t give a shit about what’s between a person’s legs. Kinda freeing._

“There we are,” John comes back into view, now wearing scuffed up jeans and a punk band t-shirt. “We were done anyway.”

“So you…..you got no problem datin’ again?” he asks, stepping into the place.

Well shit, it was so much nicer than his dirthole he called an apartment. It was actually clean for one, secondly it housed a lot of modern amenities and nice paintings. Guessed it paid to be a magical exorcist.

“Oh that’s just stress relief,” she jams a cigarette into her mouth. “You don’t mind, do ya?”

“Go ahead,” Frank nods. “Ain’t me they’re killin’.”

“They already tried to kill me once,” she lights it up. “Didn’t stick. But nah, that lass was just something to keep me occupied for a while. I doubt I could open up again romantically for a long long time yet.”

“I get it,” Frank nods. “Just scratchin’ an itch, right?”

“Bingo,” John blows out a plume of smoke. “Now, I don’t imagine you came up here to view me poor life choices.”

“Somethin’s happenin’ at my work,” he sits down on the couch, almost sinking into the soft damask. “People gettin’ killed in physically impossible ways. Dragged under bulldozers with no one operatin’, thrown off a roof with no one to throw them, rebar bending to be the right angle to impale someone. It’s just….”

“Sounds like you got a spook there,” John raises an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you want me to take a look?”

“Yeah,” Frank nods. “I can’t…I can’t pay you.”

“Oh fuck off, Frank. I wouldn’t take payment from you anyway,” she rolls her eyes. “I owe you for getting me out of that shithole the Kitchen Irish put me in. Give me the address and meet me tonight at three a.m.”

“Three a/m?”

“It’s not called the witching hour for no reason, lad,” she flicks the cigarette near the ash tray. “Spirits are at their most corporeal then.”

“But they’ve been attacking during the day?” Frank says in confusion.

“Really? Shit,” she chews her lip. “That’s not good.”

“No?”

“Means it’s powerful….and pissed off. Make sure you wear padded clothing. See you later.”

  
  


**

  
  


Frank was shivering his ass off, the moonlight being the only thing to illuminate the construction site.

Where the fuck was she?

“Oi oi,” comes a voice from the other side of the gate….the  _locked_ gate.

“How did you….” Frank trails off.

She just smirks, taking the padlock and jangling it. It falls apart in her hand like melted butter before she discards it and lets him in.

“Magic solves a lot of problems,” she winks.

“Huh,” is all Frank will say.

He briefly entertained the idea that should could be the most successful criminal if her moral compass was a bit more askew but he got the sense from her that she just wasn’t wired that way. Oh don’t get him wrong, he thought John was in that grey area of morality but that at her inherent core she was good. She was helping him after all.

“Come on, lad, keep up,” she smiles with the energy of a child before haring to the base of the site, her trenchcoat fanning out behind her.

“Hey I….ah fuck,” he shakes his head before chasing after her.

She’s already scouting for something when he catches up. He sees the eyes that assess the dangers, the careful way she’s standing. She’s definitely done this before.

“Shouldn’t we be going to the top?” Frank asks.

“Nah, usually when a ghost is stirred up, it means you’ve covered over something or dug something up,” she explains, squatting to her haunches. “This cement, it looks new. How old?”

“Maybe four/five days,” Frank guesses.

“Building new foundations?”

“This is going to be an apartment block,” Frank tells her.

“Get a sledgehammer,” she waves at him. “We need to find out what was under here.”

“'Aight, stay put,” Frank nods.

“Oh and Frank. Be careful,” she says darkly. “This thing might put up a good fight. Here, take this.”

She pulls a pendant from over her head and hands it out to him. “Stops ghosts from being able to touch you so easily.”

“Thanks,” Frank says, a little perturbed before slipping the tiny iron symbol around his neck.

He could already feel something recoil away from him the second the necklace touched his skin. He knew then that John wasn’t bullshitting him. There  _was_  something here and it was something he couldn’t see.

_This a brave new world and it scares the shit outta me. Get it together Frankie. Ya can’t be more scared than her. It ain’t right._

He was afraid she would see him as weak if he freaked out, especially since he had already had a small taste of what she could do. She was so put together, even after her trauma and Frank admired that so much that he wanted to emulate it.

He grabbed the sledgehammer, jumping back down to the lowest level, avoiding the staircases in case he got tripped up. Then he started hammering the spot where she pointed to, breaking the centre of the area she’d marked in sharpie.

After the cement pieces had splintered enough, she dug through with her bare hands and Frank was surprised she was so…..hands on, so to speak. John was willing to get roughed up and dirty for a job.

She comes across an ornate box, after the earth below had crusted up under her fingernails and pulled it into view.

“Oh bollocks,” she frowns. “It’s a dybbuk box.”

“The fuck is a dybbuk?” Frank asks, looking at the box which he decides is more of a tiny cabinet.

“It’s a Jewish demon,” she sits back on the ground with a heavy thump. “Rabbis lock them in boxes after exorcisms and they’re supposed to be buried and forgotten. Obviously some fucking muppet has opened this, wondering if it was worth summat.”

“So there’s a demon on this site?”

“Aye, and it’s looking for a host,” John starts opening the cabinet and looking at the items inside. “So keep that necklace on, lad. Won’t protect from a strong arsed demon, mind but it’ll negate most from trying to possess you.”

“And what about you?” Frank fiddles with the pendant.

“I’ve got enough protection tattooed on me,” she winks before throwing bits out of the box and pulling out a knife to pry a raised edge from the bottom away revealing a hidden compartment. “There you are, you little beauty!” she exclaims.

“What?” Frank looks over her shoulder and catches a whiff of a scent almost like bonfires and toffee and cinnamon. She smelled like an autumn night where danger lurked in the woodland trees.

_Shit she makes me awful poetic. I ain’t ever thought this articulately_

“Every box has the demon’s name somewhere. Names give us power over things,” she tells him.

“Even humans?” he quirks an eyebrow.

“Want me to show you?” she says, akin to a challenge. “Might freak you out.”

“If it does, it does. I’m curious now,” Frank sits completely on the floor, cross legged. “If we got time that is.”

“Oh aye, we got time. It’ll only take a second,” she assures him. “Now don’t be alarmed.”

She crawls his way, almost straddling him as she touches her fingers across his temples and says with absolute conviction, “Francis Castle. Hear me.”

All Frank’s senses went on hyper alert and he felt like the world was amplified. He also felt like John was the most important thing in his life he had to focus on.

She just gives him a knowing smile before taking her hands away and the second he loses that contact, everything dulls again and he’s able to clear his head.

“Shit,” he breathes. “Ain’t nobody called me Francis since my ma.”

“Names are powerful things,” she opens her arms in a dramatic gesture. “Now this bastard is apparently called Abezethibou. If me bible studies are correct he had a personal vendetta against Moses.”

The second John speaks the name the air around them grows colder, more oppressive. All surrounding animals seem to quiet instantly with only the noise of the distant traffic signalling there was any kind of life.

“I think he knows we’re here,” John looks around herself. “To stuff a dybbuk back in the box, we need to put in one personal item. Still in or want to call this a loss?”

It was sweet that she cared about his personal things but Frank would rather not have the deaths of innocents on his conscience just for the sake of the photo he kept in his wallet. He was sure his family would understand, wherever they were.

He leaned over, taking the tiny photobooth strip out and looking at it one last time before putting it in.

“Pretty family,” John remarks.

“Thanks,” is all Frank replies.

John takes another necklace from underneath her shirt, one that seems to have a ring on it. Looks to be an ornate band with a jewel.

“It were an engagement ring,” she explains, catching his look. “Don’t suppose I have much use for it now.”

Suddenly Frank felt like an asshole that she was having to give up something so sentimental to save his sorry job. It wasn’t very fair.

“Oh don’t gimme that look,” she smiles sadly. “I still have other things of his. Can’t be wearing it for the rest of me life.”

“But it’s special,” Frank tries to argue but he only just gets the sentence out before she dives on him, a rebar spike whistling overhead just where his neck would’ve been before it punches into the drywall.

“No time to argue, Frankie boy,” John’s eyes are wide. “I think it’s noticing what we’re doing. Stay sharp now.”

She jams the ring into the box before chanting that name over and over, producing a bundle of what looked like herbs from her coat pocket before lighting them.

“I adjure you, Abezethibou,” she proclaims to the air which begins to whip up the dust and leaves from the ground. “By the utterance of angels and The Watchers and the Holy Ones, by the sight of Yahweh of the Heavens. I adjure you Abezethibou, return to your captivity and wake no more.”

Frank thought himself a stable man with little fear beyond those that were normal for a marine, however…..the sight of something inhuman crawling out of the cement, mouth snarled, hands crooked, body withered and blackened. Well shit. He would have nightmares for weeks.

And there was John, stood proud, tall and unbending, the light from the construction floodlights illuminating her blonde hair in a halo. She looked to Frank like an avenging angel, her trenchcoat fanned behind her like wings.

“I ADJURE YOU, ABEZETHIBOU! IN THE SIGHT OF YAHWEH OF THE HEAVENS. RETURN TO YOUR CAPTIVITY!” she roars.

The creature sinks its gnarled nails into the stonework, fighting the pull of the chant but it’s too strong. Claw marks are raked into the concrete as it’s dragged towards the cabinet, screeching and yowling in foreign tongues.

“ABEZETHIBOU, RETURN!” John pushes more and Frank can see the strain in her veins as they pop out from her neck.

When the demon gets level it attempts to lunge for Frank and instinctively Frank draws his gun, shooting it square between the eyes. It reels back, the scream ear piercing as John shouts even louder.

With one final difficult drag, the demon vanishes into the cabinet which locks with a soft click and immediately John throws her trench coat over it.

“Is it done?” Frank asks, his gun still shaking in his hands, his trigger finger itching.

“Yeah. Yeah. Fucking hell that were tough,” she rakes her hands through her hair. “Whoever the village idiot is who let it out, twat ‘em one, alright? Jesus….”

“Are you okay?” Frank asks, putting the safety back on and standing up.

“Oh aye, just fine,” she smiles briefly. “Just takes a lot outta a person, you know? Bloody hard work.”

“What are you gonna do with that?” Frank points to the box.

“Bury it somewhere better,” comes the wry reply.

“Can’t you just burn it?”

“That’d release the demon back out again. It needs to be contained,” she shakes her head but the action makes her wobble on her feet slightly and Frank just goes over, helping her steady herself.

“This is becoming a habit,” she laughs. “You helping me stand up.”

“If ya will exhaust yaself,” Frank huffs goodnaturedly. “Come on, girl. I’ll carry ya back.”

“Oh don’t be so bloody melodramatic,” she dismisses. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Oh I know. Believe me, I know,” Frank says seriously. “But don’t be a stubborn ass for ya pride. Let me help you.”

“Fine,” she relents, almost crumpling against him. “I guess I did put too much into it.”

Frank scoops her up in a bridal carry. She’s heavier than she looks, probably a lot of dense muscle from the feel of her. She places the box on top of herself, guarding it carefully.

Frank takes her to the gate of the site and notices how much she’s relaxed against him. He looks down to see her eyes closed. Probably unconscious right now.

He finds the site’s wheelchair and places her gently in it, wheeling her back to the apartment block and into the elevator before his next problem presents itself. How does he get in to the apartment?

He starts looking through her coat pockets, finding all sorts of items and far too many that  _should_  have fitted into them. That lighter, herbs, parchment, sheathed daggers, bones, talismans and….a withered hand.

Unfortunately for Frank, the keys were clasped in this hand. Frank wasn’t a squeamish man however so he just prised the fingers back before whipping the keys away where the hand closed on itself, trying to keep the item in its possession.

He unlocked the door and wheeled John in, setting the dybbuk box on the counter before picking her back up where she lolled disturbingly until he drew her more into his own body and managed to find the bedroom, setting her down on the mattress before deciding what he was gonna do.

Should he stay and keep a watch on her? Should he leave and post the keys back through the door?

He didn’t get much time to make that decision though because he heard the front door opening and he went for his gun, moving with stealth to the main living area and peering around the corner.

“John?” a tall man with curly hair and a thick beard calls out in a London accent. “You home? If you are, make sure you’re wearing clothes this time.”

Frank assesses. This guy doesn’t look like a threat and seems he used a key to get in so he must be trustworthy.

“She’s in here,” he calls and the guy whips his head around.

“Who’s that?” the guy says.

“A friend,” Frank replies, stepping out from the shadows.

Seems the other guy has the same idea as Frank because both men draw their gun on each other at the same time.

“Some creepy man hiding in the bedroom? Sure. John has shit taste in guys but they’re usually a little less military trained. Assassin?”

“No, friend,” Frank presses. “And I can see ya got some training too. So who are you? Friend or hitman?”

“Childhood friend,  _actually_ ,” the guy says a little pissily.

“'Aight, ain’t no reason to get competitive,” Frank cocks his head, lowering his gun. “Just makin’ sure she’s safe.”

“And who the fuck are you?” the guy frowns. “She’s never mentioned a military guy before.”

“I’m Frank.”

The other man lowers his own gun, tucking it back into the waistband of his jeans, “Shit, she  _has_  mentioned you before. You’re the guy that sprung her from the Kitchen Irish, right?”

“I am,” Frank nods, putting his own gun away.

“Sorry, I just…..can’t be too careful. John has a lot of enemies, I mean a  _lot_ ,” the guy sighs. “This life….it doesn’t get you many friends, especially friends who stay alive.”

“And you’re her oldest?”

“Known her since she was a teenager,” the guy nods. “I’m Chas, Chas Chandler, otherwise known as her nanny and taxi service.”

Frank snorts. Despite Chas pulling a gun on him, he seemed to also have the same style of humour as John.

“So where is she?” Chas asks.

“She uh….put a dybbuk in a box?” Frank tries to get his head around the sentence he was saying.

“Shit, she’ll be asleep for a while then,” Chas blows air out of his mouth hard. “Those are always horrible rituals.”

“Fuck, I didn’t know it would affect her that bad or I wouldn’t have asked,” Frank feels incredibly guilty.

“She would’ve done it anyway if she’d found out,” Chas shrugs. “She’s a bit suicidal like that.”

“Is she always….”

“Reckless as all hell? Yeah. She always says she’s got nothing to lose and she may as well use her life to help someone else.”

That was kind of how Frank was viewing his life going forward. That same disregard for his own health and safety, only a keen sense of justice, of punishment.

“Ah, you understand,” Chas notes Frank’s expression. “John always did attract broken people around her. No offence.”

“None taken,” Frank says gruffly. “She’s just as broken as I am, I think.”

“More than you could ever imagine,” Chas says cryptically.

“Fuck meeeeee,” comes the unladylike groan from the bedroom as John obviously awakes and stumbles into the doorway, hair askew. “Oh hi, mate. Didn’t know you were comin’.”

“Yeah I had a case for you but seems you took one closer,” Chas smiles wryly. “You look like shit, John. I’ll get you a whisky.”

“Because you look like sunshine and kittens, Chas,” she pokes her tongue out. “Get a haircut you hippy.”

“Get a life, waster,” Chas replies back.

This must be the weird British insult 'banter’ that Frank had seen in some UK shows. The notion that the closer friends you are, the more you insult each other.

“You okay, Frankie boy?” John flashes him a much more bright eyed look. “I know that must be a right shock to see something demonic.”

“It was,” Frank’s honest. “You do that all the time?”

“Pretty much,” she rubs the back of her neck, working out kinks. “Most of me life. Some……oh……forty years or so?”

“What?” Frank blinks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Chas start laughing as he’s making the drinks. Maybe it’s some sort of joke between them.

“Oh, me and Chas are both in our sixties,” she says with a smirk.

“Bullshit,” Frank blurts out. “Ya ain’t lookin’ a day over thirty  _at most._ ”

She just throws a very battered English passport at him which he catches and looks at the date of birth.

_How?!_

“Magic, ain’t it?” he guesses.

“Remember I showed you those scars?” she takes the drink from Chas and downs it in one elegant gulp. “During that… _incident_ …I got tainted with demonic blood. It’s kept me from aging like regular folk.”

“And him?”

“Oh he can’t die. Not a bloody clue why,” she shrugs. “He ages slower too.”

“I don’t know either,” Chas shrugs when Frank looks his way.

“This is a lot,” Frank rubs the side of his temple.

“Aye, I know. Come on, rest up,” John points to another doorway. “There’s a guest bed in there if you need to crash. I’ve got some business to chat with Chas here.”

Frank knew enough to know when he was being dismissed and with how tired he was, he didn’t question it. He moved to the bedroom, crashing down on the mattress that seemed to envelop him softly, much more softly than his piece of shit bed downstairs.

Normally he would be too wired to sleep somewhere new, always alert for the danger but…..he just felt like he could trust John. He was able to drift off quite quickly.

_It’s nice…..having someone I could maybe call a friend again. Been a long time I had one of those…._


	3. The Fire Is Not Quenched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank struggles to get John off his mind but troubles at work pull the Punisher back to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Violence, angst, disabled slurs
> 
> Sorry for the delay guys! Been in hospital for a bit so catching up on things!
> 
> (Proof reading errors likely)
> 
> -TLP xx

 

“Morning sunshine,” John’s voice cut through his nightmare and he bolted up, hand on the hilt of his combat knife as he almost jabbed it into her carotid.

“Fuck! Don’t do that!” Frank growls.

“I think you’ll find you would never have gotten far anyway,” John makes a pointed nod.

Once Frank’s eyes focus again, he sees a magical barrier, stopping his knife in its path. Magic sure was useful.

“Yeah ‘aight, fine. Just don’t wake a man up-”

“When he’s having nightmares,” she finishes, a curious look in her eye.

“Yeah….uh….how did you-”

“I’ve known that look before,” she says quietly. “Had me own nightmares many times. I can take them away if you want?”

Frank thinks about it for a second. Would he really want to lose the last image he had of Maria? Was it worth getting a good night’s sleep rather than be reminded he was the reason for her death?

“Naww, it’s fine,” Frank shakes his head. “They’re good for me.”

“Alright then,” she murmurs before producing a coffee just the way Frank liked it. “Time to get up, starship. You’ve got a job to get to.”

Frank looks at his watch and sees it’s about half six. Fuck, he’s later than normal but then again, he’s only supposed to start at ten.

“I got time,” he shrugs, sitting up and taking the coffee, feeling the bitter warmth run down his throat. “Fuck, I just saw a demon last night. A man needs to process shit.”

“Take all the time you need,” she shrugs. “No skin off my nose, lad. Just tryna keep you employed.”

“I ain’t supposed to start til later. I just go to…..I go to….”

“Have something to do? Forget everything for a while?”

Damn, John was really astute. Maybe their experiences were more similar than Frank realised.

“Done that too, huh?” he asks.

“Oh aye,” she gives a small smile, leaning back against the headboard with him. “Threw meself into demon hunting proper like after…..after….yeah well. I was a bit of a reckless shit.”

“And ya not now?!” Frank thinks back to the way she faced down the demon.

“Not as bad as I used to be,” she laughs. “I actually think stuff through now. Hell is easy to get to, living is the challenge and I hate losing.”

“Competitive huh? I get that.”

“I’m sure you get a lot of things I’m talking about,” John sighs, fidgeting with her tea. “I can always sense kindred spirits so to speak. You feel responsible right, for your family?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Every day,” she takes a sip from the mug. “Every day I wonder why the fuck I let someone into me life knowing what it were like, knowing there’s danger every day. I were fuckin’ selfish to do so and it got him killed.”

“Things I did in the war are comin’ back to bite me on the ass,” Frank says gruffly. “The official story is that my family got killed in gangland crossfire. That ain’t ever rang true for me but I still put all those gangbanger sons a’ bitches down.”

“Revenge is a powerful motivator,” John sparks up a cigarette. “I’ve run on it most of me life.”

“And how does it make ya feel?”

“Like there’s a cancer eating away at me,” she admits. “Revenge is never fully what you expect it to be.”

“I’m gettin’ that Ma'am,” Frank sighs.

“For fuck’s sake, Frank, don’t call me Ma'am,” she wrinkles her nose. “Sounds like a headmistress or a police inspector.”

“Force a’ habit,” Frank says, taking more of the burning liquid into his mouth, relishing the perkiness it gave him. “So what now? Just gonna live here?”

“May as well,” John muses. “Not got anywhere to be. Just kind of…existing. Waiting for the next crisis to pop up, you get me?”

“Oh yeah,” Frank nods, his voice slightly cracking from months of underuse.

Around John he was positively chatty. She seemed to bring out the truth from him, the insecurities. It was a weird feeling being so open with a virtual stranger but he got the feeling she was trustworthy. He just wished it didn’t hurt his damn throat to speak so much.

“Rest up, lad,” she pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll make breakfast. Least I can do for your assistance last night.”

“I didn’t do shit?” he queries.

“You got me home, you bellend,” she rolls her eyes. “Coulda left me at the construction site.”

“Why would I? I asked for ya help. I ain’t about to leave ya on some concrete slab. That ain’t the chivalrous thing to do.”

“And are you chivalrous Frank?” she takes a puff of the cigarette. “Are you just one big softie under forty pounds of muscle?”

“I just try to do right by folk, John, women especially. It was the way my ma raised me.”

She fixes him with a calculating stare before coming to some unspoken conclusion, “You are a rare one, Castle.”

Wait….he’d never said his surname.

“How did you know my second name?” he gets defensive, the coffee cup slammed on the nightstand.

“Oh pipe down big'un,” she snorts. “Don’t have ID in your old name if you’re tryna disappear then. I did me research. The Punisher eh? Quite a show you gave this district.”

“You knew the whole time?” Frank yells.

“Hey, I told you  _my_  complete name,” she says innocently. “Did you not do your research?”

“Well….no,” Frank blusters.

What a rookie error.

She was right. He’d failed to do any recon on her at all, meanwhile she’d obviously done her homework on him. He felt embarrassed.

“You may do it now if you like,” she smirks. “I’ve not got anywhere to be today.”

Feeling put on the spot, Frank grabs his phone and searches ‘John Constantine’.

“I would’ve expected you not to want to work with me,” she says, taking another long drag. “Given your….propensities against criminals.”

He found her on the US prison database, accused of murder. She was acquitted though. He found her on the UK prison database for a number of offences ranging from petty larceny to murder again. The thefts and criminal damages had stuck but the murder….she was deemed insane and spent time at an asylum it seems. Then there was the band photo that cropped up where she looked much younger and so did that man from last night. Obviously a punk band trying to make it big.

“So…..quite the career thief,” he notes. “And the murder?”

“It were my fault,” she stares into the middle distance. “But I didn’t chop up a little girl like everyone says I did. I was trying to save her from the demon I’d conjured up to stop her being used as a conduit for a satanic cult. Didn’t go so well. Lost me bloody mind. Seeing a dismembered kid does that to a person.”

That haunted expression was all Frank needed to tell him that’s what she believed. He also believed it too now he’d seen a demon with his own eyes.

“How old were you?”

“Twenty five,” she answers quickly. “I were young and very  _very_ stupid then. Thought I knew everything about the dark arts when I didn’t know shite.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m pushing me mid sixties,” she shrugs. “I know a little better but I’m not so sodding arrogant that I think I’m the dog’s bollocks.”

“Ya know, you’re lucky I met British squaddies or I would not have a damn clue what ya fuckin’ sayin’,” Frank runs a hand through his overgrown hair.

“It’s rough being a Scouser in the states,” she laughs. “Nobody has a ruddy clue what I’m speakin’ about. Sometimes I fake that posh Queen voice just so someone will get what I mean.”

“And how does that feel?”

“Like I’m betraying everything about meself,” she winks. “Like if you got rid of that New York accent for the generic Valley girl one.”

“I ain’t got an accent,” Frank scowls.

“Don’t be bloody daft. Everyone does,” she throws up her hands. “Now….I’m gonna get on with breakfast because me stomach will eat itself soon if I don’t. Fry up, okay?”

“As long as it don’t have that blood thing,” Frank says gruffly, draining the last of his coffee. “Sounds fuckin’ nasty.”

“Oh it is, lad,” John frowns. “None of that shite in my fry up. Just good ol’ fashioned eggs, bacon and sausage. The good kind, mind. Your sausages taste like plastic vomit.”

“Oh do they?” Frank gets defensive about his own country’s food, which is a stupid thing to get defensive about.

“Oh aye. Chunder city,” John fakes being sick in a way that makes Frank chuckle a little. “Now let me introduce you, mate, to the world of good protein.”

She disappears into the kitchen and Frank can hear banging before the sound of sizzling starts.

He takes a moment to reflect. How is it that he’s so open with John? Maybe one night of shared hunting bonded them quicker than he’d imagined.

He found himself wanting to know more so he carried on his google search, coming across forums where people 'spotted’ Constantine, like she was some sort of bogeyman legend. Maybe she was. She seemed to crop up on a lot of occultist forums where she’d rejected apprentices and the like.

Then he came across the obituary of her father, Thomas Constantine after digging even deeper, using the old databases for military intel. There was even a social services referral, a concern from a children’s charity about the way Thomas treated John.

When Frank pulled up the photo of a preteen John with burn marks and bruises all over her, he got so mad that he had to put his phone down. She’d really had a bad fucking start in life.

He wondered how she even stayed positive.

When she came back in with two piles of steaming breakfasts, he felt a little ashamed that he rooted around so hard around her history. Here she was being nice to him and he was digging up everything he could, even back to childhood.

“What did you find?” she sighs, giving him a bitchface look. “I know the look a’ pity when I see it. What did you find out about me?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to research so far,” Frank ends up blushing slightly.

“Were it the Ravenscar transcripts? From me time in the asylum?” she guesses.

“No, it was about ya dad,” Frank admits.

“Ah,” she goes quiet, setting the plates down and crawling back on the bed to eat beside him. “Pictures?”

“Yeah there were pictures.”

“Shit,” she breathes. “Don’t go giving me your bloody sympathy, Frank. I don’t want it. What happened is in the past.”

“Just tell me he got his comeuppance,” Frank says gently. “Because what he did….”

“Used me as an ashtray?” she fills in. “Beat ten bells out of me when he got drunk? Blamed me for the death of me mother when he were the one that caused it? Yeah he got what was coming in the end but it didn’t feel right, even after all of that.”

“Again, I’m sorry. That was fuckin’ rude a’ me,” Frank admonishes himself.

“You can make it up to me by eating,” she quirks up an eyebrow. “You’ll need your strength after the night we had.”

He silently takes the plate and the cutlery before shovelling food into his mouth like it was going outta style. John was right, he was ravenous but he hasn’t really realised. More to his surprise was that the food was actually good. It was a teasing point to Americans that Brits couldn’t cook but this was nice. Stodgy but it was what he needed.

“And the sausages?” she asks, having devoured her food quicker than he had.

“'Aight, I admit it. Our sausages are fuckin’ awful,” he nods. “You win.”

“Oh goody,” she breaks out into a wide grin. “Now I can sleep easy. Tell you what, I’ll make you an offer.”

“I’m listenin’,” he says warily.

“If you’re ever lonely or you’re in need of some grub, knock on me door any time,” she smiles. “Can’t guarantee I’ll always be in but I think it would do us both good.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Frank manages a lopsided grin of his own.

“You look nice when you smile,” she notes. “Should do it more often, unless you like the hulking thug vibe.”

“Ah….thanks?” Frank splutters, not expecting the compliment. “Anyway John, I do actually gotta get to work now. See ya later?”

“Aye, I’ll be here,” she says brightly.

“See ya around, Ma'am,” Frank got up, taking his plate to the kitchen. “Thanks for the food.”

Faster than he could’ve seen, a pillow hit the back of his head, “It’s just John!”

  
  


**

Frank was distracted.

Frank was so distracted that he missed the construction goons taking his lunchbox and stamping on his sandwiches until they were nothing more than mush and a few stray pieces of lettuce.

“Fuck you, retard. Enjoy your lunch,” they chanted at him, trying to get a rise.

Frank found he had no anger reserves though. That boiling rage that always seemed to lurk underneath the surface was just…..calm. That small taste of action with John had just abated the animal within and he could think a bit better.

Frank just shrugged off the idiots before climbing to the top of the building and dangling his legs over the edge, just scanning the skyline.

The strange English girl seemed to crop up a lot in his mind throughout his lunch break and he wondered if he would be too imposing to ask for her company tonight.

_Fuck, am I….am I forgetting Maria?_

The thrill of a new friend, the fact that she was an  _attractive_ friend, that she made him laugh for the first time in months….the guilt started setting in from that point forward.

“Hey, take some of my sandwich,” the new kid sat next to him, breaking his reverie. “My ma always makes too much.”

“It don’t mean we’re friends,” Frank says gruffly.

The kid seemed excited he got him to talk and just started blabbing a million miles an hour, “I knew you weren’t slow! I knew it! Silent type, huh?”

“Stays that way. Thanks for the sandwich, kid,” Frank closes the conversation.

He didn’t particularly wanna talk right now and he was sure all this young guy was gonna do was question him to death. Frank had a bit of a reputation as being this mysterious, quiet figure and it was bound to attract some curiosity.

The rest of the day continued without much note, Frank swinging his sledgehammer again, reopening the callouses and blisters. It hurt a lot more now he was starting to feel less numb to life.

“Ah fuck,” he swore, taking a small break.

It was in that break that he overheard plans for a robbery on some high stakes gang members and it was clear they were dragging the kid into it, probably as bullet fodder. As much as Frank wanted to leave them to it, he couldn’t. The newbie was nice and nice was rare these days in Hell’s Kitchen.

_Nawww, I can’t keep steppin’ in when people fuck up their own lives._

Frank just went home and didn’t end up knocking on John’s door.

  
  


**

“ _I missed you baby,” Maria coos. “It’s time to get up.”_

“ _I love you,” Frank runs his hand down her warm cheek. “What time is it?”_

“ _Little after ten,” she smiles. “Kids are waiting.”_

“ _Can’t be havin’ that,” he laughs._

_In ten seconds she went from smiling adoringly at him to having her brains blown out, her limp body falling onto Frank._

“ _NOOOOO!”_

He woke up, the bed soaked from sweat, his heart pounding.

He moved as if still dreaming, stumbling into the elevator and pressing the button before ending up pounding on John’s door.

She eventually answered, clad in just a plain t-shirt and what seemed like a guy’s boxer briefs, her hair completely fuzzed into wild waves around her head.

“Fucking hell!” she swore upon seeing him. “What’s the fire?! You look like shite!”

“I need….I need….”

Frank didn’t know how to say it. He was always shit at asking for help. Usually he was self sufficient.

“Nightmares right?” she bites her lip before grabbing him by the hand and pulling him in.

Why the fuck he held her close like she was a lifeline he didn’t know. She was quite stiff at first, not expecting that reaction but then she circled her arms around him.

“Let me take them away, Frank,” John says softly.

“I just don’t wanna lose her. I don’t wanna lose my wife,” Frank desperately tries to hold back the emotions, aware he’s blurting everything out to a virtual stranger still.

“You won’t,” she assures him. “It’ll just be like you don’t dream at all.”

“It’s the only time I fuckin’ see her but every time she…”

“Trust me, lad,” John squeezes him a little. “Getting rid of me nightmares didn’t erase Kit for me. It just made it bloody bearable.”

“Please,” Frank asks, the request almost pathetic and he hated how much of himself he was opening up.

“Take a seat,” she guides him to the couch before straddling his lap.

“What-”

“Just button it, Frankie boy,” she smiles slightly. “Need to be close to do this. No funny stuff. Not that I’m right attractive at four in the morning anyway.”

Four in the morning? Fuck, Frank felt like such an asshole for waking her up at this time.

“You ain’t bad,” Frank mumbles more to himself.

“Oh cheers mate,” she snorts. “Such a confidence booster. Anyways, just close your eyes and relax.”

She chants something and Frank feels himself relaxing more and more, like his fear was being pulled out of his body. John was right, it wasn’t like he was forgetting Maria, it was more like his worries were leaving his consciousness.

“And done,” John says, sagging a little. “Shouldn’t bother you any more.”

“Thank you,” Frank nods. “Truly.”

As she ended up moving off of him, her t-shirt rode up and John caught a glimpse of a sheer expanse of scar tissue along with some obvious old burns from those pictures he’d found. Fuck she’d had such a shitty life and here was Frank exploiting her good will.

“Is there anythin’ I can do for ya?” Frank offers. “You’ve really helped me out, John.”

“Nah, we’re square, mate,” she smiles faintly. “How 'bout if I need your help I knock on your door sometime?”

“Can do,” Frank nods. “I’m real sorry to wake ya at this time. I just…”

“I know what is it to be haunted by your past, Frank,” John combs back her unruly hair with her fingers.

“So…Kit, huh?”

“Aye, that’s him but it’s a story for another day,” John stretches. “Right now I need a good brew. Got some ghoulies to take care off in a little bit anyway.”

“I’m off to the site. Got some steam to blow off,” Frank nods, getting up. “Stay safe.”

“Always do, Frankie boy,” she grins.

  
  


**

 

When he got to the construction site, the goons were kicking the new kid around. Presumably everything had gone to shit at the robbery and he was responsible.

Frank just kept working up until the point where they threw him into the cement mixer.

Then he just snapped.

All the fury that had been suppressed just rose to the fore and he was on the men, using the sledgehammer to break bones, to break skulls. This felt good. It felt natural to him to defend those that couldn’t be defended.

After throwing a rope for the kid to get out, it was liked the renewed sense of purpose took over.

What the fuck was he doing wasting his life doing manual labour? This was  _not_  his calling. This is  _not_ where he felt most alive.

He felt alive when he fought, when he killed, when his life was in danger and now….he felt alive having a friend again.

There was still one last loose end to tie up though. The kid’s identity was known to this gang, a gang that Frank had once monitored in case they were connected to his family. They’d need to be taken care of.

_No one will miss the bastards anyway._

  
  


**

 

Imagine Frank’s surprise to see John sitting at the table with these gangbangers.

Fuck.

He needed her out of the way so he could shoot up the place. What was she even doing there anyway?!

Then Frank saw the handcuffs sparkling on her wrists and knew she wasn’t there of her own volition. That eased his spirit a little bit to know she wasn’t consorting with criminals.

He’d have to do this carefully.

He half crawled across the entrance to the building, swinging down from the fire escape and silently cracked the neck of the guard outside of the basement door. Then he made his way down, the places of every player at that table burned into his brain. He couldn’t get it wrong.

Frank hit the breaker switch, killing the lights before bursting into the room and opening fire. The sound of bodies hitting the deck left a dull thump in his ears as the dwindling shouts of the men reduced to just silence and the noise of bouncing shell casings.

He could make out in the gloom that someone was reaching for the lights so he hid behind the door, just waiting for someone to come out before putting a bullet in the back of their head the second they came looking for him.

The adrenalin and the blood lust was still heavy in his mind as the last of the men fell and he stalked over to John who was white as a sheet in the chair, a panicked look on her face. He just boxed her into the seat.

“What the fuck are ya doin’?!” he yells. “Why are ya here?!”

“Hi to you too, Frank,” she deadpans. “Told you. Had business here. Didn’t realise business was in fact a pretext to trying to sell me off to the highest bidder.”

“What?” Frank blinks.

“I got a reputation, lad, a reputation for magic. Imagine the bastard that controls someone with magic. Imagine what he could do.”

“So why not just bust out,” Frank can feel the vein throbbing in his neck.

“Anti-magic handcuffs,” she rolls her eyes, showing him the weird symbols carved into the metal. “There are some folks who know how to deal with people like me. Unfortunately, I lost me edge slightly and didn’t realise I were walking into a trap.”

“So they were….playin’ poker to win ya? Like a slave?”

“Think of it like a genie with unlimited wishes,” she muses. “'Cept I take all the badness that comes with casting self serving spells and they just reap the benefits. Cocks…”

“Ya fuckin’ idiot,” Frank mutters, pushing a dead body off the table so he can sit down on it.

“Oh? Were you worried, lad?” she smirks, some of the colour coming back into her face.

And there was the crux of the matter. When Frank saw those cuffs on her from his vantage point he  _was_  worried about her. But why? She could certainly take care of herself that’s for sure. She’d done so for many years by all accounts. Was he actually becoming fond of her already?

“Oh you  _were_!” she laughs. “Well, that’s a turn up. Not many folks interested in little ol’ me.”

“I can’t believe ya got yaself fuckin’ tied up again,” Frank shakes his head. “You got issues, Johnny girl.”

“Johnny girl eh?” she rolls it around her mouth. “Cute nickname. I think you’re getting attached. Don’t blame you, I mean I am intoxicating.”

Her cockiness seemed to diffuse Frank’s murder rush and he ended up doing an unattractive snort.

“You’re a fuckin’ peach,” he sighs. “Come on then. I need a drink.”

He finds the key on the leader and unlocks her cuffs where he can see the angry red welts bitten in her skin and he finds himself soothing them, rubbing them out and trying to get the circulation going again.

Frank sees she’s looking at him strangely.

“You are a bizarre one, Castle,” she says quietly. “Not quite figured you out yet.”

“I’m a simple guy,” Frank shrugs. “Not much to figure out. Now you…. _you_  are a mystery.”

“Better to remain that way,” she says quickly before moving out of the room.

Frank felt the walls that she put up. She wanted to maintain a clear distance. He wondered why out of all the times that they’d met she suddenly got aloof. Maybe she was feeling the same kind of conflict he was, that weird pull to know more about each other, that sense that it was a betrayal of their past loves.

He decided maybe it was best to get away for a while, to clear his mind, to get focused again. Then he would truly know what he wanted from his life.

“Coming?” John calls.

“Yeah,” Frank nods before following her.

_I think space is what I need. I’m getting too involved. Fuck, why is this all so damn complicated?_


	4. The Smoke of their Torment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Frank tries to get space, John Constantine seems to show up everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Heavy Angst, Gore, Biphobia, Mistreatment of Mental Health, References of Child Abuse.
> 
> Happy reading guys!  
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Proof reading errors very likely as it’s almost 2am)

After that night he didn’t go back to his shitty apartment for a while.

He decided to branch out, actually walk about the district for once. He slept in by the minute motels, catching a few hours of sleep here and there until he went out again, exploring the neighbourhood and scouting the crime areas.

It gave him a small thrill to know he was doing recon. It felt natural, it felt right. At his heart, Frank was still that marine he always was. He needed structure, he needed a purpose.

He went into a bar where he knew some crime lord tended to hang out, just pulling back a beer as he surveyed the room. Frank spotted the guy he was looking for shamelessly groping some girl who looked barely legal. In fact she looked barely sober.

_Fucking disgusting piece a’ shit._

“Come on, lass. Don’t play coy with me, eh? I can always tell when someone’s into me.”

That voice caught his attention immediately.

He whirled around, looking for the source of the Northern British accent and saw her sitting in some booth with the daughter of the crime lord practically on her lap. There was intense heavy petting going on and after they started kissing, Frank just groaned internally.

_Jesus Christ, John…..why the fuck ya get yourself into shitty situations? Bangin’ a crime lord’s daughter, seriously?_

Should he intervene? John might be pissed he was blocking her fun but if she got too involved…. Fuck he hated being protective over this woman already. How did she keep cropping up in his life to begin with?

Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking over and acting pissed.

“The fuck ya doin’ girl, huh?” he crosses his arms.

John broke away, completely startled, “What?!”

“Ya don’t take our fuckin’ relationship seriously, huh?” Frank continues. “I find ya every goddamn night with some broad? I ain’t enough for ya?”

There was a flash of understanding in her eyes as she cottons on, “Frankie…sweetheart….I got needs.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Frank comes closer. “I ain’t like those jack offs who get off on this kinda thing. It’s still cheatin’. Ya breakin’ my heart, baby.”

The girl gets off John’s lap and stands up, “Beat it, meathead. Your girl is mine tonight and I always get what I want.”

“Ya just gonna let her talk to me like that?” Frank points.

“Oh come on, Frankie,” John gets up too. “Be nice. You can watch if you really like.”

“How can ya do this to me?” Frank feigns emotions, gripping his overlong hair. “Ya said ya fuckin’ loved me. I just wanted to do right by ya.”

“I’m not doing this in a bloody club,” John sighs before turning to the girl. “Excuse me, love. Got some baggage to take care of.”

“Hurry back,” the girl pulls her in for a long kiss, overworking it to try and piss Frank off.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” John winks before grabbing Frank roughly by the arm and dragging him away.

Frank was surprised how strong she was. Girl certainly was tougher than her appearance suggested.

Once she got him outside, she whirled him around and held him against the wall, “What the bloody hell were that?! I was in there!”

“You were gettin’ in there with some gangbanger leader’s daughter,” Frank grunts. “Ya gonna let me go now?”

“I was….what? Shit. Well this is fucking great. Why do I always pick the bad girls?” she steps back from him. “Fucking hell….”

“Happens,” Frank shrugs, readjusting his jacket. “Don’t need ya gettin’ in the crossfire when I take her daddy down.”

“Thanks,” she nods. “I appreciate it. Seems like you’re saving my arse a lot lately.”

“Well ya helped me out too,” Frank dismisses with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothin’.”

“Fantastic acting by the way,” she smirks. “Sure being a soldier was your calling in life?”

“Just shut up,” Frank says but there’s a smile playing on his lips.

He realised he’d missed her. Two seconds after being outside and he was already smiling. Smiling was such a foreign expression to him these days.

“Ooo you love it,” she winks. “So you’re following me around, eh?”

“Fuck you, you’re followin’  _me_ ,” Frank snorts. “I’m just doin’ work.”

The door starts opening and Frank catches a glimpse of that girl again. Shit. They should’ve gotten far away by now. Rookie mistake.

Before he can try anything, John’s twirled him around, jumped on him so her legs are wrapped around his waist and he gripped her thighs out of instinct and she was kissing him. Frank was so rusty at it that it took him a while to remember what to do.

_Fuck she’s a good kisser….soft…..don’t think about it. This is just for show. It ain’t cheatin’ on Maria.  God it just feels nice though. Fuck, I’m a fuckin’ shit husband. FUCK._

All of this ran through his mind as he desperately tried to ignore the fact that John was gyrating against him, really selling the interaction.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” comes the voice of the girl. “Fucking bisexuals. Can’t fucking trust ‘em.”

Then a slam.

John breaks off immediately, clearing her throat before dropping down and moving a respectable distance away. She coughs a little, turning pink in the cheeks.

“Sorry about that,” she shuffles. “Only way I could think to get us outta that.”

“Naww, it worked,” Frank rubs the back of his head. “That happen often? The…uh….bisexual comments?”

“All the damn time,” she sighs. “Anyway, let’s shake a tail feather and get outta here and umm….sorry again.”

“S'alright,” he reassures her. “I get it. Now fuck off while I take this place down.”

“Yes, sir,” she mock salutes, taking a pack of cigarettes from her trenchcoat and expertly flipping one into her mouth before lighting it with fire from her hands. “See you around Frankie boy. Thanks for the save.”

“Yeah yeah,” he drawls, a lazy smile on his face. “Later, Johnny girl. You kiss real good by the way.”

He found it funny how much she stuttered, coughing around the cigarette before disappearing quickly.

Humour was the only way he could rationalise it. The guilt was eating him alive right now that he might have enjoyed what happened but at the end of it all, he barely knew her. How could he be letting her so far into his life?

He wanted space and he should be keeping space, not craving the next time he’d see her again.

He pushed it out of his head completely as he went to that dark place, cocking the dual pistols hidden in holsters under his jacket before walking in and letting the Punisher reign.

  


**

  


A week later he’s in Micro’s hideout, having hidden in his car and interrogated him and now some kind of…..weird partnership had happened.

He was bored, still working out exactly what his plan was given the new information he’d found out. Frank found his fingers wandering over the keyboard, knowing Micro’s computer had access to every system behind a hundred VPNs.

**Search term: Constantine, John**

There were more hits than he’d expected. He skimmed through the penal records until he hit the Ravenscar admin. He thought back to how she looked at him when he’d gone through her childhood and assumed he’d found this.

How bad  _was_ it exactly?

He probably shouldn’t…..he  _really_  shouldn’t…..but he was curious and he wanted to know more about her. She’d been playing on his mind, the memory of that night, the kiss.

It was wrong and he knew it but he dwelled on it a lot. She was quite the magnetic and addictive personality.

**Subject: Constantine, John. Female. Aggressive Psychosis/Schizophrenia – Manifests in religious delusions.**

**Assessing doctor: Dr Huntoon**

**Dr Huntoon: We’re here to discuss the incident at the Casanova club. The murder of Astra Logue.**

**Constantine: Not murder. Not murder. A demon.**

**Dr Huntoon: Demons aren’t real, John. We’ve been over this. You murdered Astra Logue and your brain conjured this delusion to deal with the guilt.**

**Constantine: Fuck you! I know what I fucking saw! I watched her getting bloody ripped apart and it were my fault!**

**Dr Huntoon: Yes it was your fault, John. It was your fault and your religious upbringing is now coming into play to compensate. It’s alright to admit what you did.**

**Constantine: I admit every bloody thing I did. I summoned a demon to try and save her. Her dad was doing awful shit to her. I thought it was the only way but it wasn’t. I wasn’t strong enough to contain it and it killed her. I have to live with that. Do you fucking understand? Do you?**

**Dr Huntoon: John, enough. I think you need to understand that the only reason you made it into Ravenscar instead of a prison is because of this religious fixation and the issues with your father.**

**Constantine: Don’t you fucking dare talk about that bastard.**

**Dr Huntoon: Child abuse victims can often become violent. It’s a natural progression when that’s all you’ve known and-**

**Constantine: Piss off with your fucking analysis. Let me outta this fucking straitjacket and I’ll show you I’m not mental.**

**Dr Huntoon: Do we have to medicate you again, John?**

**Constantine: It’s Johnny, not John and you go fuck yourself. I’m not crazy! I can do magic!**

**Dr Huntoon: It’s natural to want powers that you believe will fix your past and your problems.**

**Constantine: Oh shut your gob! I can fix it! I know I can’t! I can’t let it happen again!**

**[Constantine leaps at Dr Huntoon, headbutting them and is restrained by orderlies, given tranquilisers]**

**Constantine: I can’t let it happen, can’t let it happen, can’t let it happen again. I can’t. I can’t, I-**

**[End of session]**

**Recommendation: Four rounds of electroshock treatment.**

“Electroshock…fucking Jesus,” Frank breathes out loud.

What a shit time she’d had in that place. Seeing something so traumatic and having no one believe you….having people punish you instead. How the fuck was she sane?

Frank read some more of the transcripts, feeling sicker with each one, seeing the file photo for one shock treatment where John was covered in bruises and was screaming. He couldn’t look any more. He just felt dirty reading it.

He turned away from the computer completely, joining Micro in getting some sleep although all he could see in his dreams was a weird blend of Maria and John where John was trying to save his wife and failing, chanting over and over again….

“Not again! I can’t let it happen again!”

 

**

 

Voices woke him and he could see Micro sitting there, holding a gun, not really knowing what to do.

“How did they get in?” Micro whispers. “How does anybody know about this place? Did you tell someone?”

“Fuck naw,” Frank whispers back before making a motion for Micro to shush, silently getting up and taking the gun off Micro before peering around the corner and moving forward slowly.

Gradually the voices came more into focus and he heard two British accents and smelled the scent of cigarettes.

How?!

He looked at Micro’s desk chair to see John sitting in it, legs up on the unit, casually talking to her friend Chas.

“Morning, sunshine,” she seems to sense him before he announces himself.

“How….why…..” he babbles.

“How did I get here?” she quirks up an eyebrow. “Scrying spell. Broke into your flat and got summat personal and used that to find you on a map.”

“Why?” Frank asks.

“Because whenever someone searches me, I get really interested in who,” she says knowingly.

“No, why is your friend here?” he clarifies.

“Oh I had nothing to do,” Chas shrugs. “My wife kicked me out for the night so John said I could tag along. Nice…uh….place?”

“You gotta wife?” Frank is surprised.

“Very long suffering,” Chas nods.

“And by long suffering, he means him,” John smirks. “Because Renee is worse than most demons.”

That earns her a cuff round the back of the head from Chas.

“Do you know these two?” Micro comes in, clutching his bathrobe like it’s a lifeline.

“Ah yeah, this is John and Chas,” Frank introduces them. “They’re friends.”

“Alright mate,” they both chorus.

“So…..why are they here?” Micro questions, subconsciously standing behind Frank, although Frank notes he takes John’s strange name better than he did.

“Caught Frank’s little covert digital search,” John stands up. “Me mate Richie is a technomancer, put a spell to alert me to anyone who digs up me records.”

“Funny,” Micro laughs nervously before whispering to Frank. “You’re friends with crazy people?”

“Heard that,” Chas laughs. “Go on, John. Show him.”

“I’m not a bloody performing monkey!” she frowns. “Jesus!”

“Come on, Johnny girl. Show Lieberman, huh?” Frank asks, curious to see Micro’s reaction.

“Fineeeeee,” comes the beleaguered reply before what looks like a tiny gremlin appears out of nowhere.

“What is thine purpose master?” it croaks out.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” Micro practically leaps into Frank’s arms.

“Don’t be rude, mate,” John tries to keep a straight face. “This is Ekrineth. He’s a lower level demon. Say hello Ekrineth.”

“Greetings to you mortal,” the tiny demon bows to Micro. “I serve master Constantine.”

“Alright Ekrineth, you can go now. Just needed to show some special effects,” John dismisses the creature which vanishes in a ball of flame.

“I need to lie down,” Micro blinks, stumbling away. “I’ve had too much coffee…yeah, that’s it. Coffee and staring at screens.”

He leaves the room, leaving Frank laughing so hard he almost has tears in his eyes. He hadn’t expected Micro to be so animated in his reaction.

“Happy, you two?” John sighs. “Scaring innocent folk?”

“That shit was hysterical,” Frank admits.

“Come on, John,” Chas pats her on the shoulder. “That was one of the best reactions I’ve seen to Ekrineth.”

“Alright fine,” she gives a lopsided grin. “It  _were_  pretty funny. You got any private rooms in here for us to have a chinwag, Frank?”

“Sure,” he nods. “Follow me.”

He leads her to a storage cupboard before shutting the door where she shucks out of her trenchcoat, looking far too professional in that shirt and tie.

“So what’s with the history lesson?” she asks seriously. “The Ravenscar stuff?”

“I’m sorry, I got curious,” he bows his head, feeling a little guilty. “Their fuckin’ methods were barbaric, savage.”

“Oh I know,” she grits her jaw. “Not like you had to endure having your brain fried most days and being beaten to shit in the back rooms.”

“Is there  _anything_ about your life that’s been good?” Frank asks. “Because fuck….”

“Yeah, there have been good bits,” she rests her head against the door. “But a whole lot of tragedy too. Nobody ever stays alive around me long and there’s only been two years of peace that I’ve ever known since Newcastle.”

“With Kit?”

“Yes with bloody Kit,” she becomes agitated. “Why did you look me up again, Frank? I thought you needed space?”

“I never said that. How could ya know that?” Frank frowns.

“Not hard to work out, you muppet,” she rolls her eyes. “You didn’t come back to your home for a couple of weeks after the stuff that happened and you go dark after that bar incident.”

“Yeah, 'aight, I needed space,” Frank admits. “But don’t tell me ya ain’t thought about me once 'cause the second I searched, you came runnin’.”

She opens her mouth, clearly annoyed but words don’t manage to come out.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

“Stay out of my world, Frank,” she finally hisses. “Stop coming after me because it’s only gonna end one way. In blood.”

“I got government goons tryna kill me,” Frank snorts. “Think I ain’t got my own shit? They know I run with you, ya next on their hitlist. I come with my own dangers.”

“Yours dangers might get me killed but  _my_  dangers will get your soul ripped apart and used as a demon’s chew toy for all eternity,” she says seriously. “I know that kiss were right confusing for both of us but it ends here. I just came to say goodbye.”

When Frank’s stomach lurched at that prospect he knew he was getting attached to her. Maybe it  _would_  be better if she left and never saw him again. He had nothing to offer her other than gunfights and his trauma addled brain, not to mention the almost Catholic levels of guilt for feeling the slightest bit of attraction to her.

“'Aight then go,” he points to the door.

Clearly she’d been expecting more of a fight about the issue because she hesitates, unsure what to do. He can see she’s internally battling with herself and he wished he could read her mind about now.

“Stay safe, Frankie boy,” she finally says, nodding and opening the door.

“Always do, Johnny girl,” he replies, the pet name kind of cemented already. “Thank ya for everythin’.”

“Aye,” she says softly, turning to look at him one more time. “And thank you.”

Then she walked out of his life again, taking Chas with her as she vanished in a portal of light.

  


**

“Sooooo……how did it go?” Chas asks, once they’re both settled in the penthouse again.

“Fucking terrible,” John admits. “I made such a dog’s dinner of it.”

“You did some self destructive shit again, didn’t you?” Chas sighs, rubbing his temple. “Jesus Christ, John. You’re your own worst enemy.”

“I can’t subject him to any more of this shit,” John shakes her head. “Dybbuks were bad enough. If he learns the full scale of what’s out there he’d lose his bloody mind.”

“I think he can take it,” Chas offers. “Seems like he’s seen some horrors in war, demons aren’t much of a stretch further.”

“He’s got his own shit to deal with anyway. It’s the best thing to stay away.”

“You’re never gonna be happy if you don’t try and let someone in occasionally. I can’t be your only friend. It’s exhausting…”

“Oh piss off you great bastard,” she scowls. “He’s better off without me in his life.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Chas nudges her. “I saw the looks exchanged. He fancies you.”

“Poor bugger then. I’m toxic. Nothing you say is gonna change me mind on this, Chas. I can’t do it again. I just can’t.”

“You can’t keep wallowing about what happened to Kit,” Chas says gently. “That’s the quickest way to getting back in a padded room.”

“Shut your gob, mate. No offence,” John grumbles. “I’m taking a nap.”

“Alright, run away like you always do,” Chas gets up, throwing his hands up in frustration. “But I think Frank could handle our world if you gave it a chance. I’d best get back and do some sweet talking to Renee. I’ll see you around, you prick.”

“Fuck off, knobhead,” she calls genially after him. “And thanks for the talk.”

Once the door had closed, all the insecurities bear down on her until she finds it hard to breathe. There was real genuine interest in wanting to know more about Frank Castle and she enjoyed the moments she spent with him. That kind of dry sense of humour, the rough and ready attitude with the soft heart, the gentleman that lurked beneath the hulking muscle…..

“Shitting hell, I can’t,” she groans out loud.

But what Frank said played on her mind. He was right. The second she knew he’d been searching for her, she’d gone running straight to him.

Her world was dangerous though. How many other partners, lovers, even one night stands had she lost to the evils lurking beneath the mortal plain? Tens? Might even be pushing the hundreds now with how many had been caught in the crossfire.

If Frank was just an ally type she could handle letting him in more but she undeniably had an attraction to him, if not an infatuation at this point. In this kind of job, you learned to appreciate things more intensely than normal folk and romance was no exception.

_But I can’t have another Kit. I just can’t._

The image of Kit being torn open invaded her thoughts, the look of horror on his face and the glee of the Second and Third of the Fallen as they played with his internal organs….

_I can’t open myself up again. I won’t let someone die because I tried to love them. My kind of love is a curse._

And with that, she pushed Frank Castle from her mind, determined not to see him again.


	5. The Glory of His Might

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank decides to hit a weapons smuggling ring but magic certainly seems to be afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Violence, gore, angst
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

Frank was on a weapons run because Micro was being fucking useless.

How was he supposed to do this thing if all he had was a pistol? He needed an arsenal. He needed everything he could because this thing was bigger than he ever expected.

He was at a shipping yard, watching the Greeks yelling at each other, trying to sort out the smuggling operation before anyone saw.

Frank saw.

Frank saw it all.

When one of them started using a flamethrower, testing it out, his mind cast back to John and the way she’d make little fire balls just to light her own cigarette.

_Stop thinkin’ ‘bout, John._

It’d been three weeks since she’d walked out of his life and he kept hoping she might show up, change her mind. He wouldn’t go after her because that’d be desperate, she needed to come to her own conclusion. With each passing day though, the kernel of hope kept dying.

Sometimes he thought he saw the swish of a tan trenchcoat out of the corner of his eye, the smell of cigarettes, a snippet of a British accent. One time he’d grabbed for the coat, only to find a blond man with unruly hair and stubble who just gave him a quizzical look and Frank mumbled some apologies.

He scanned the scene before him, not too many people and he could easily pick them off. The only problem was the bazooka. If someone got hold of that, it’d make things very difficult.

Frank sighed, taking a quick bite of an energy bar after remembering he’d forgotten to eat again before making sure his boots were well secured and his gun was in place. Then he dropped from the rooftop, knife bared as it went straight into the carotid of the goon underneath him, blood spurting out around the wound.

The guy was in too much shock to call out.

Then he crept around the shipping container, sneaking up on his next target. Frank clamped his hands down over the guy’s mouth, slashing the windpipe so he couldn’t make any more sound, severing the vocal cords. He dragged the still twitching body back and out of sight. No sense in raising the alarm if someone came across it.

He glanced up when he saw movement and again caught something that looked like a tan trenchcoat. Was he just going insane at this point? Was he that starved for intimacy that he was imagining John was following him?

_She already made it clear. She doesn’t want anythin’ more to do with ya. Stop hopin’._

Not even accessing more of her records had drawn her out. Frank had already tried that, looking into the Newcastle incident further and seeing how truly horrific that must have been.

_Ya gotta job to do. Stay focused._

“Dinos? Costas?” a voice calls.

Shit, those most be the two that Frank had killed. He didn’t have long now. They’d discover the bodies soon. Time to go nuclear.

He lunged out from his hiding space, stabbing the scout through the eye and into the brain, twisting to make sure the deed was done before grabbing his assault rifle and opening fire on the crowd gathered by the edge of the dock.

Several of them dropped immediately but the others took up arms firing back and Frank dove behind some crates, hearing the wood splintering behind him. When he heard reloading he popped back up, taking out four more and then his heart stopped as he saw the last of the guys running for the bazooka, ducking Frank’s bullets.

Shit shit shit.

The guy was agile, more agile than Frank expected and he was definitely going to make it to that weapon. All Frank could do was run. Training didn’t mean shit when it came to explosives. He needed to get out as quickly as he could and wait for the guy to run out of ammo.

He darted forward trying to make for the warehouse so he had a chance to hide in the structure but when he turned, the bazooka was aimed right at him. He wasn’t going to make it.

_Well, this is it. I had a good run._

The bazooka fired, the glowing trail streaming behind it as it made its way to Frank but before it exploded near him, a shimmering wall stopped its path, blocking the blast as it skittered along the shining light.

“What the..fuck?” Frank breathes, watching the last embers fizzling out.

Even the guy seems confused before he gets struck in the back of the head with a 2 x 4 and goes down, the bazooka clattering to the floor. Standing over the guy, he sees the same blond man with the messy hair and the stubble, wearing exactly the same thing John usually wears.

“Fucking hell, Frank. Can’t leave you alone for a second, can I? Not too sure about the clean shaven look by the way and the bruises aren’t a good vibe,” the guy speaks, the Northern British accent very evident.

Was it….was he losing his mind now? There was the idea in his head that this may be John.

“Uh….” is all he manages to get out.

“Oh shit, yeah,” the guy slaps his head. “Probably not so approachable like this.”

He shucks out of the trenchcoat and whirls it around his head, obscuring his face as words are spoken before the coat drops and Frank sees it  _is_  John.  In fact John looks rather sheepish.

“So….you’re a guy?” Frank tries to wrap his head around it.

“No, born a lass. You’ve seen my files,” John kicks at the man on the floor.

“But you….”

“Look I can change into a bloke. Magic remember?” she shakes her hands for effect. “Sometimes it’s handy.”

“Like when ya keepin’ tabs on me, ya mean?” Frank quirks up an eyebrow.

“'Oh thank you, John. Cheers for saving me arse John. I would’ve been strawberry jam, John. Let me buy you an ice cream sundae, John’,” she mocks.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya a fuckin’ bowl of it,” Frank dismisses. “Why ya here?”

“What, no hug?” she pouts.

“Ya said you were done,” Frank presses, knowing he might just have gotten himself in a world of shit for asking. She could be defensive, she could leave but….he had to know.

She sighs heavily, fiddling with her tie before finally speaking, “Just because I said I didn’t want to get involved doesn’t mean I don’t bloody care you moron.”

“You…care?”

“Oh this is awkward,” John shuffles her feet. “I’m gonna go run through a portal now. I shoulda never come.”

She turns to leave but Frank grabs her arm, stopping her from going.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thanks for saving my life n’ thanks for lookin’ out for me.”

“No problem,” John refuses to look at him. “Now, I really have to be off.”

“Stay,” Frank found himself saying.

“I can’t, you know I can’t,” she bites her lip before making a portal with some circling gestures. “Just get your weapons Frank and forget me. I’ll look out for you but-”

“John, don’t run away from me,” Frank says loudly. “Not again.”

She turns and Frank can see the conflict in her face. She desperately wants to go, that much was obvious but her body language suggested she wanted to speak to him.

“Why?” she finally asks.

“Because  _I_  care,” Frank blurts out. “I been worried 'bout ya, Johnny girl. You get yourself into a lot a’ shitty situations.”

“Frank, I’m older than you,” she smirks. “I’ve been doing this longer and I always come out of it fine.”

“Didn’t I hear ya said ya been to hell?” Frank purses his mouth. “Means ya died right?”

“Well fine,” she huffs. “I’ve died three times technically but I always make it out.”

“Your life is so weird,” Frank chuckles. “But I meant what I said. I care. Ya don’t need to run.”

“Then join me for some brewskis,” she offers.

“I gotta get the weapons,” Frank motions behind him.

“I mean, I can just teleport those things to Micro’s place if you want,” she shrugs.

“Wait, ya coulda done that all along?” Frank scowls.

“Hey, I wasn’t getting involved until you nearly got Guy Fawkes-ed,” she holds up her hands.

“Yeah, do that then.”

Her eyes turned completely white as she whispered a chant and Frank could see light emanating from the shipping container, sneaking through the cracks until all of a sudden it went dark again. Then her normal blue irises returned, still slightly sparkling.

“Done,” she proclaims. “Now I  _really_  need a beer.”

“Lead the way,” Frank motions.

He tries not to be too surprised when she takes his hand to pull him through the portal. Probably something to make sure he doesn’t get trapped or left behind…right? Still, there was something quite childish in him that stirred up.

_She held my hand._

  
  


**

Back in her penthouse, she immediately lunged for the fridge, grabbing beers and popping the caps off with her teeth. Frank wanted to tell her how hot that was but he kept it to himself.

“There you go, lad,” she slides one across the kitchen counter to him and he gratefully drains it.

“Thanks,” he says after setting it back down.

His phone starts going off and he knows it’ll be Micro so he puts it on speakerphone.

“'Sup, Lieberman?”

“Frank! FRANK! A shit ton of weapons just appeared out of fucking nowhere! There’s tons of them! Grenades even! What the fuck?!” Micro shrieks.

“Calm down, Lieberman. It’s just John helpin’ me out. She like…magicked them there so I wouldn’t get caught.”

“I thought she dumped you?”

“Shit, Lieberman, we ain’t datin’,” Frank growls, watching John crease up with silent laughter.

“Yeah but you like her. That was freaking obvious,” Micro continues, unaware he was on speaker.

“Bye Lieberman,” Frank hangs up quickly.

“Friends, huh?” John snorts. “What are they good for?”

“Ignore that,” Frank grunts, staring very intently at his bottle.

“Oh? So you  _don’t_ like me then?” she winks. “I’m crushed, luv.”

“Girl, I swear-” Frank starts.

“You swear what?” she comes up closer to him.

Well fuck. Now his brain was all mixed up the second he heard that slight seductive edge to her voice. He was way in over his head with this when he really should be concentrating on the task at hand.

“Uh…” he flails around for words.

“Doesn’t matter, Frankie boy,” she laughs. “Sit with me, drink with me.”

“Sure.”

He could do that at least.

  
  


**

  
  


Seven beers in and he’s divulged most of his early life to her.

She nods patiently, seemingly drinking in every detail and she asks questions but he starts feeling like he’s being selfish, like he’s taking over the conversation.

“Tell me about Maria,” John says softly, her eyes lazily blinking, clearly drunk.

“First time I met her, I was playing guitar in a park n’ she came over. I thought she was gonna say I was playin’ real nice but she told me to shut up because I was terrible. Fell in love with her right there. Got her pregnant, married her soon after. We fought but she was passionate, y'know? She was a tiger but I loved that shit about her.”

“She sounds fun,” John smiles.

“She was,” Frank nods. “And she gave me beautiful kids.”

“Nice to know more about you,” John remarks, emptying the last of her bottle.

“How did you meet Kit?”

Her eyes flash for just a second and Frank thinks he might have stepped into uncomfortable territory here.

“Me mate out in Ireland,” John starts. “Bit old, bit doddery, he were bloody good at sniffing out supernaturals though. Only issue was, he was a drinker and I’m talking Irish kinda drinking. Kit used to take care of him. One day I went over because me mate told me he was dying like, liver failure. I ended up tricking the First of the Fallen when he came up to collect his soul and managed to give him a second chance. Kit wasn’t needed any more so he came with me to London. We just kinda….fell into it.”

“Like a friends to romance kinda thing?”

“Yeah summat like that,” John nods. “I were chasing a vampire up Wimbledon common and nearly got shanked for me troubles but Kit saved me arse. After that I got an earful about being reckless and he kissed me.”

“That has gotta be the strangest way to start a relationship,” Frank chuckles to himself.

“Irish blokes,” she shrugs. “They’re very intense.”

She delves into her trousers and pulls out a battered wallet before fishing out a photo and showing it to him. Frank could see John, looking happier than he’d ever seen her, kissing the cheek of a guy with dark messy hair, the kind that looks effortlessly modelesque. Soft brown eyes and a rakish beard along with broad shoulders.

They both looked so loved up.

“Shit,” he murmurs as he stares at the photo.

Now he felt inadequate. Frank wasn’t on any GQ list. He knew he was definitely a bruiser type and he’d honestly felt like he’d won the jackpot when Maria had approached him. Knowing John had been with a man who was obviously very attractive made him very insecure.

“Yeah, regularly pretty boy,” she rolls her eyes, taking the photo back. “Took longer in the bathroom than I did.”

Frank snorts, “Who wore the trousers?”

“Oh I did for sure,” John laughs. “But Kit always had the last say on things if you get me?”

“Yeah I get that,” Frank nods. “Was the same with Maria. She ran the show but if I said no and meant it, no arguments.”

“That’s good,” she points the bottle at him, swaying it slightly. “Sometimes it’s good to be with someone who says no and tells you you’re being an idiot sometimes.”

“Yeah ain’t disputin’ that.”

“You know, I’m glad you’re here,” John slurs a little.

“I’m glad you caved,” Frank smirks.

“Hey!” she smacks him with a cushion. “I didn’t cave, you bastard!”

“You watched me. I kept seeing ya damn trenchcoat,” Frank laughs. “Can’t deny it, Johnny girl. Ya couldn’t stay away.”

“Piss off, you giant wanker,” she scowls. “I was making sure you didn’t get yourself killed.”

“No, you  _care_ ,” he repeats, grinning from ear to ear as he leans over intent on rubbing that statement in her face.

“Yeah well so do you, Frank,” she challenges him, leaning to match him.

She was so close to him now…he could just move forward and…

“Dare you,” she smirks, eyes sparkling with mischief as she catches his look.

“Oh I ain’t ever backed down from a dare.”

That was the trigger he needed, a challenge and alcohol being great motivators. He had no guilt in this moment, no shadow hanging over him. He just kissed her and she let him.

He fully intended on pulling away but her hands snaked up his chest and behind his neck, keeping him in place. Then feelings he had bottled away for so long came back, the need to be intimate with someone, the need to just be in someone’s presence, the need to be touched.

The kiss deepened and John let out of a soft moan which just  _did things_  to Frank. He became acutely aware he was reaching a point of no return, a point where he’d have to decide whether he wanted to go further.

She pulled back, lips reddened and chest heaving slightly, “Bed?”

Shit. He had to make the choice now. Be selfish and take what he wanted from her or stop it and be a gentleman, not taking advantage of a drunk lady.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Frank.”

God her eyes were so impossibly expressive. He could see the raw need in them, the want. He so desperately wanted to see them in a different scenario. Maybe he should just…

“Yeah,” he finally says, scooping her up in his arms to which she half giggles, before taking her into her bedroom, laying her on the Emperor sized bed.

He crawled next to her where they made out some more, the kisses becoming heavier, laced with drive and lust. This was happening.

He was finally letting Maria go.

Then his phone started ringing from his jacket in the other room.

“Ignore it,” John pants.

“Shit. I can’t,” Frank groans. “It’ll be important.”

“Then come back quickly.”

“Shit Johnny girl, you’re somethin’,” he smirks, tapping her on her ass.

He fully expected a noise of surprise rather than the moan he got. That was the point the blood really started rushing elsewhere.

_Fuckin’ Christ, keep yaself together, Frankie. She ain’t like Maria. This one’s a livewire. Bet she likes all kind of kinky shit._

When he grabbed his phone, Micro was informing him that the FBI were trying to trace the disappearing shipment from the Greeks and he may have been caught on camera.

“So fix it,” Frank huffs. “Scramble the CCTV.”

“I’m on it,” Micro says tartly. “Just letting you know, or is the great Frank Castle too above information like that.”

“Lieberman I was just-”

“Shit you were gonna bang her weren’t you?” Micro starts laughing. “That’s why you’re so pissed, I’m cockblocking you.”

“Fuck off, Lieberman,” Frank hangs up.

He was seriously going to bounce the hacker’s head off the wall when he got back. This weird teasing back and forth was not Frank’s style and he didn’t want Micro getting comfortable doing it.

He went back into the room to find John sleeping, her fingers curled into the blanket. Well, he supposed it was a sign to take things a little slower. Maybe it was good. He wouldn’t want to rush this thing, whatever it was.

Frank kicked off his boots, stripped his shirt off and got into the bed next to her, throwing the comforter over her body and himself before settling down to sleep off the booze.

John must have sensed him there because she reached out and found his hand, interlacing her fingers before settling back down, breathing steadily.

Frank didn’t shy away, he just lay there, studying her peaceful face. He really was glad she had come back. It was the only bit of light he’d in his life for months. Maybe it was the same for her.

Just two people, born into tragedy and war, although her war was very different. Both lost so much, both grinning and bearing it, just trying to live each day. Why couldn’t they just have a bit of happiness for while? Was it really so bad to find that in each other?

She stirs a little, her eyes opening and she blinks, trying to shake the sleep.

“Naw, s'alright girl, sleep some more,” Frank urges her, squeezing her hand. “I’m here.”

She seems to accept that, eyes fluttering closed again and her limbs going slack. It was a nice feeling to know she felt safe enough to do that.

_Well you have saved her on a couple of occasions, Frankie. Then again, she just saved your ass tonight….and she told me she cared._

Frank takes one last look at John’s serene face before leaning over and kissing her cheek gently. It felt right, slightly terrifying how quickly he’d fallen into relationship tropes though. Maybe he was more comfortable around her than he realised.

He decided to shove those spiralling thoughts out of his head and just go with it.

Just as his eyes closed, he replayed the kiss on the sofa, the way John had poured so much passion into it, the way she looked at him.

_She cares._


	6. The Wicked He Will Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the confusingly intimate events of the night before, both John and Frank try to come to terms with what they’re feeling but an old enemy of John’s resurfaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Angst, violence
> 
> I'm still surprised people are finding this fic considering how bizarre the pairing is. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Proof reading errors possible)

John woke up with a bit of a start, scrabbling at the covers as she flailed.

“What the….”

Frank was gone.

_Shit, I knew I were being too keen. Good job, Johnny, you’ve scared him off._

Not even a note. That seemed to just about sum up John’s luck with romantic partners lately. Disposable.

Then she heard singing from the kitchen.

“[- _Teach me all that a heart should know, Love me as though there were no tomorrow; Oh my darling, love me; don’t ever let me go_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DALXfCIhrHvk&t=NGI3MDI0MTYwMjcwNmZiZWEwYjc5NzY5NGQ2M2YxYzAwM2UzMWYwMyw5dHJ4ZFJDdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AqOvnaaDd_SfVYQ8UVUnylw&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheliveshipparagon.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181254131820%2Fdeliver-us-from-evil-chapter-6&m=1).”

That was Frank singing? He was pretty good at warbling out some tunes. Not that she expected him to even be singing something so old fashioned. He struck her as more of a country music type.

Then the footsteps came close to the bedroom and Frank entered with two plates stacked with pancakes. When he saw John, he smiled, the smile reaching up into his eyes.

“Mornin’, Johnny girl. Gotcha some American food here. Thought it might be a change for ya.”

“You….you cooked breakfast for me?” she blinks.

“Well sure,” Frank shrugs, setting the plates down on the bed. “You did it for me. I ain’t so rude as to not return the favour.”

This was awfully domestic and John didn’t know what to do. Normally her lovers just kind of either stayed in bed for round two or had long since sodded off by now. Making breakfast wasn’t in her list of options and she was floundering for what to say.

“You alright?” Frank asks, noting John’s bemused expression.

“Ah yeah,” she shakes her head to clear it. “Just…I wasn’t expecting…”

“You thought I’d be gone, huh?” Frank guesses before chuckling. “I ain’t one of ya itch-scratchers. Now, I may not be sure what this is exactly but I don’t think it’s a one time thing.”

That sparked something in John’s chest, the notion that Frank was around to stay and her world hadn’t frightened him off, that  _she_ hadn’t frightened him off. But should she really be opening herself up to the possibility of something more again?

“I’m not sure what this is either,” John blushes, uses the pancakes as an excuse to hide her face behind the stack. “I didn’t imagine getting bloody involved like this.”

“'Aight,” Frank says, sitting on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. “How ‘bout….we just see where it goes? No pressure, we don’t deny ourselves shit, we just let it play out.”

“Sure,” John murmurs quietly. “So…Nat King Cole, huh? Had you down for more Johnny Cash.”

“Oh I like Johnny Cash,” Frank smirks. “But there’s just somethin’ bout those old crooner songs, ya know? My Pa always used to love 'em. Sinatra, Rat Pack, Dean Martin….just kinda wholesome.”

“I get what you mean,” John nods. “It’s just pleasant music.”

“Now, you,” Frank points his fork. “You I didn’t expect to know who Nat King Cole was. Weren’t ya a punk or somethin’?”

“Or summat, yeah,” John laughs. “Yeah I were a big Pistols and Clash fan as a youngster but doesn’t mean I’m married to the genre. I am a surprising person sometimes.”

“Sure are, Johnny girl,” Frank beams at her.

Again, she blushes horribly and curses how much this man is affecting her. She’s usually a lot smoother than this, more of a charmer.

“Nice pipes by the way,” she deflects the conversation. “If you ever give up vigilante-ism, get on America’s Got Talent or something.”

Frank nearly snorts his coffee out, “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down well. Most wanted man in Hell’s Kitchen singin’ to the nation.”

“Yeah but I’m sure you’d get the sympathy vote,” she quips.

“Ya gotta smart mouth, John,” Frank mock scowls.

“I sure do,” she winks.

Her phone vibrates on the nightstand and she picks it up, seeing a message from Chas.

**Chas: Midnite is going after your connections trying to find you. What the hell did you do?**

**John: Nothing, that wanker is the one who came after me first.**

**Chas: Get outta the penthouse quick or you’ll lose it as a base.**

**John: On it. Also, Frank’s here.**

**Chas: Did you…… ;) ?**

**John: Grow up you pervert.**

“Breakfast is gonna have to be take out,” John looks up at Frank who immediately puts his cup down. “I’ve got bad trouble coming my way.”

“What’s the danger?” Frank asks, alert and eyes searching hers.

“Papa Midnite, his name is. He’s a Voodoo master and one of my old rivals. He’s the reason I nearly got sold in that gambling set up you obliterated.”

“Voodoo? Seriously?”

“Oh so you believe I’ve got demon’s blood but Voodoo is a stretch too far, eh?” John quirks up an eyebrow. “You are right weird, Frank.”

“Hey, I didn’t even say I believed ya had demon’s blood to start with to be fair,” Frank points out. “But what does that mean? We gotta go?”

“Yeah gotta get somewhere neutral,” John stands up, gathering some clothes from the dresser. “If Midnite finds this place then I can’t use it any more and if Midnite catches up to me…welll…..he weren’t so nice the last time we crossed paths.”

She turns around and lifts up her shirt at the back and Frank can see the whip marks hidden underneath her bra line. She didn’t expect Frank to jump over the bed and come behind her, tracing the receding welts.

“He did that?”

John could hear the barely concealed rage in the voice.

“Yeah, tosser likes throwing around his dominance vibe. I think he’s just pissed off I never shagged him if I’m honest and he bore that grudge for thirty years.”

“What happened that day, John?” Frank asks, softer this time as he spins her around and holds her by the waist.

It was odd to be this intimate with someone again after so long but John just settled back into it like no time had passed, her hands coming to rest on his solid chest.

“Alright, lad. Buckle up, it’s story time.”

  
  


**

_John got a call on the 'work’ phone about an hour after Frank left for work._

“ _Constantine, petty dabbler of the Dark Arts,” she answers in a well practised customer service voice._

“ _It’s you, oh thank god,” a voice says on the line. “I didn’t believe this was actually real. I…I’ve got something I can’t explain and-”_

“ _Is it a ghost?” she guesses._

“ _I think so? I mean, I have no idea what it is but people have been getting hurt and no one can figure out what’s going on.”_

“ _Where are you, lad?”_

“ _Apartment complex off 11 th Avenue. Can you come tonight? That’s when it happens most.”_

“ _Sure sure, what’s your name, son?”_

“ _Diego. Thank you for believing me. I didn’t know what else to do and I heard through the underworld that you’re the person to go to about this sorta thing.”_

“ _Aye, that I am. See you in a little while. Stock up on salt and sage.”_

_With that, John clicked off, ready to get back into the field. She was refreshed after the Dybbuk incident now and raring to go. Frank’s presence had really energised her a lot lately. Maybe it was just nice fighting alongside someone new who hadn’t run for the hills already._

_At dusk, John tramped over to the building, backpack stuffed with rituals, ceremonial herbs and salt. She even had summoning candles just in case. You could never be too careful, especially not after the last time she got caught short and destroyed a historical monument…_

_Not one of her prouder moments given the uproar that followed._

_After knocking on the door, a flustered man she presumes to be Diego ushers her in._

“ _Right, so where do we start?” she clasps her hands together. “What’s been going on so I can narrow down the type of supe we’re dealing with.”_

“ _I…uh….” Diego stutters. “Just through there.”_

_He points to a room cordoned off by a thick beaded curtain and John just chalks the odd demeanour up to the man being shit scared of whatever was terrorising him._

_The last thing John expected when pushing aside the beads and walking into the room was to get stuck in a binding circle._

“ _What the bloody hell?!” she shouts, desperately pawing at the edges of the barrier but it was no use. It had already activated._

_Slow clapping sounded out from the corner and John turned to see Papa Midnite, her old nemesis, just casually reclining in an armchair._

“ _Typical John, always barrels headfirst into a situation without thinking things through. This is why you’re so easy to catch.”_

“ _Lemme out, Midnite,” John growls. “I’m not in the mood for your sodding games today.”_

“ _Oh no, that’s not how this is going to work,” Midnite croons, standing up and crossing his hands behind his back. “You’re my prisoner now.”_

“ _Big fucking whoop,” John rolls her eyes. “Been in scrapes like this before. What have I done this time to make you bind me?”_

“ _Oh nothing, nothing at all. It’s your value that I seek,” Midnite starts pacing around the circle. “See, Diego was right in his assessment, the Underworld knows your name. Naturally they contacted me to see if I could….procure you.”_

“ _Are you bloody serious?!” John cries. “You want to sell me into slavery?!”_

“ _Think of it like…indentured servitude,” Midnite chuckles. “Some mob boss gains your magical abilities and perhaps the use of your looks also and I get a boat load of cash.”_

“ _Piss off,” John frowns. “No way you’d ever do something like this for cash. They have something you want. Maybe a magical item I’m guessing.”_

_Midnite’s lip twitches in annoyance, “I guess even an ape can be clever once in a blue moon.”_

“ _You fucking cockwomble,” John snarls, banging on the barrier. “If you want some pissing magical item, I’ll get it for you. Don’t do this.”_

“ _Are you going to appeal to our life long rhetoric?” Midnite comes so close to the barrier but not enough to break it. “That because we were once allies that I maybe owe you something? You burned that bridge a long time ago.”_

“ _I burned nothing. You just got your knickers in a twist that I didn’t fancy you and you’ve hated me ever since.”_

“ _As if I would be attracted to such a disaster of a human,” Midnite scoffs. “You give yourself too much credit, Constantine. I’m talking about when you left me for dead after the plague demon got loose.”_

“ _Oh yeah, fair point,” John remarks. “But you were being a right arsehole that day in my defence. Still, let us out, yeah? I can get your item and we can go our separate ways.”_

“ _See, this is just too much fun to let you go,” Midnite cracks a grin that made John’s stomach turn. “Now….kneel whilst I place these magic cancelling chains on you.”_

“ _Get fucked.”_

“ _Charming as ever,” Midnite sighs before he waves his hand, muttering in the ancient language._

_John felt scorching pain as if she’d been whipped, the sensation travelling in lines up her back. She yelled, trying to keep steady but the agony just seemed to bite deeper until she ended up collapsing within the confines of the circle, hands shuddering as they tried to get purchase._

“ _This is a sight I’ll remember,” Midnite laughs, the low tone booming off the walls. “And I’ll enjoy every minute of seeing you in servitude._

  
  


**

“And that’s how I got into that poker game,” John finishes up.

Frank was incensed, hand running up John’s back as if he could soothe out the marks himself.

“And in the game? What happened?”

“Oh, it was just a lot of very personal remarks about my appearance versus my ability to make them a shit ton of profit.”

“You were scared when I came. I could see that.”

“So would you be if you thought people were going to rip away your freedom and make you suffer the consequences of dark arts magic. Yes I was scared.”

“Why didn’t ya say anythin’ at the time?”

“I didn’t want Midnite anywhere near you,” John looks up. “He’s dangerous, he switches sides quicker than a war criminal and he has absolutely no morality. The bloke’s been alive for over two hundred years by this point, cruelty is all he knows.”

“Two hundred….ya know what, never mind,” Frank mutters to himself. “If he’s doin’ shit like this to ya, we gotta go. I ain’t havin’ him doin’ it again because I can’t stop somethin’ like him.”

“You’re damn right you can’t, so if he does turn up whilst we scarper….you’d better scarper,” John pushes him in the chest.

“Yes Ma'am.”

“It’s just fucking John!” she huffs until she sees his goofy smile and then she ends up laughing, the tension releasing. “Alright, let’s get away smiling on a fast camel. Imshi.”

  
  


**

  
  


This new place was definitely a few leagues down from the penthouse but at least it was safe.

Frank could see all the markings on the walls, the strange symbols and runes, the wording. He had no doubt this was warded up to the gills but it was definitely a lot more stark in the furniture.

“This is where I used to live before the penthouse,” John gestures. “It’s not much to look at but it’s functional.”

“'Bout the same level as Lieberman’s place but I ain’t gotta put up with his skinny ass in a robe,” Frank remarks, dropping the hastily packed dufflebag on the floor.

“Cheers,” John nods. “You’d best get back to Lieberman, speaking of. I’m sure he’ll be choosing another opportune moment to interrupt soon.”

“He can fuck off,” Frank snorts. “I ain’t dancin’ to his tune. I wanna make sure ya alright first.”

“Frank, I’m a sixty odd year old magus,” she gives him a bitchface look. “I’ll be fine.”

“A sixty odd year old wizard who got the shit kicked outta her by a voodoo guy.”

“Oh Christ, I’m not a wizard,” she slaps her hand to her head. “This is not bloody Harry Potter, lad.”

“I think Harry Potter mighta been improved with your talent for curse words,” Frank chuckles. “Sure you’ll be alright? I don’t like the idea of leavin’ ya when ya got someone after you.”

“Alright, how about you give me a few hours to set back up here and then come back? You can bring pizza.”

“Oh can I now?” Frank smirks. “One kiss and ya orderin’ me around. Tsk.”

“I’m a woman, it’s what I do,” she winks. “Seem fair?”

“I can handle that. I’ll bring some non magic weapons back for ya as well.”

“I appreciate it.”

Then a pregnant silence hung in the air. Neither of them knew what to do for a goodbye.

Was it too weird of Frank to try and be domestic with it? Would John shy away from him? He didn’t want to just say bye and go though. That felt too casual.

_God, dating is fuckin’ complicated….I mean if we even are datin’. Shit, I don’t know how to do this any more._

“Goodbye Frank,” John approaches him. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

She makes the first move, reaching up to give him a soft kiss and Frank is happy to accept. He’s so glad she’s taken the initiative because at least he knows where he stands a little better. He was worried this morning that she may regret everything that happened the night before.

“Bye, Johnny girl,” Frank strokes her cheek lightly before turning away and walking towards the door.

“Oh and Frank? Pepperoni. If you get ham and pineapple, I’m disowning you.”

Frank just laughs as he exits, feeling a lot lighter than he has in a while before he hits the street outside and looks towards the direction of Micro’s hideout.

_Just you wait, John. I’m gonna use Lieberman’s shit to find this Papa Midnite n’ I’ll take him out. The bastard has it comin’. How fuckin’ dare he do that to ya. Not my girl._

_Not my girl._


	7. Enter Through The Narrow Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is a man of revenge and Papa Midnite has just walked into his crosshairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst warnings as always!
> 
> Thanks for those still reading x  
> \- TLP xx

Frank came into Micro’s hideout with purpose- purpose and a lighter heart.

“Oh hey,” Micro’s voice boomed as he hefted a crate of ammo into a neat pile. “No, don’t worry about me. I’m just fine, doing this.”

“Well shit, ‘aight then, carry on,” Frank says pissily.

Fuck, Lieberman could really get on his nerves sometimes.

Micro drops the crate with a loud thud before turning around, his jaw set, forehead crinkled in a frown. “You’re real shitty at this, Frank. You’re meant to be taking down an inside government conspiracy and you’re just making goo goo eyes at blonde Hermione.”

“She ain’t a witch, Lieberman. She’s a magus.”

“WHATEVER!” Micro starts tearing at his hair. “We have a job to do, Frank! For your family and for my family or have you forgotten Maria all together now?”

Frank’s grabbed him by the scruff of his bathrobe before he has even really thought about it. The unbridled rage had returned and all he wanted to do was choke the life out of the hacker for saying something so cheap, so hurtful.

“Say one more fuckin’ word like that n’ your wife ain’t ever gonna see ya again, Lieberman,” Frank growls.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Micro sags in Frank’s grip. “That was really dirty of me but I can’t keep seeing them all through a screen. I’m going fucking insane.”

“I know, I know,” Frank lets him down. “Just….don’t talk shit ‘bout my wife. Don’t talk shit 'bout John neither. I ain’t got anythin’ left Lieberman, I-”

“I get it,” Micro holds up his hands. “We cling onto the happiness we can, just….we need to do this Frank. Once this is over, you can have a normal…or whatever kind of normal her life is, life with John if you want.”

“There’s somethin’ I need to do first. John’s in trouble.”

“When  _isn’t_ she in trouble?” Micro rolls his eyes. “I swear Frank, she may have all this mystical shit but she attracts danger from what you’ve told me.”

“That she does,” Frank chuckles. “But this guy, this guy beat her up real bad n’ I ain’t standin’ for it.”

“A guy? Like a normal guy?” Micro is obviously suspicious.

“Voodoo priest,” Frank mutters. “But it don’t matter. She got goddamn lashed n’ that ain’t right.”

“Shit,” Micro breathes. “Is she okay?”

“Naww, I don’t think so. Think she puttin’ a brave face on it.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“Help me out? See if you can find anything on 'Papa Midnite’? I don’t know 'bout killin’ voodoo priests n’ all but I’ll fuckin’ learn.”

“As long as you promise after this we’ll get back to everything else,” Micro says quietly. “Promise me Frank. My kids are growing up before my eyes and they don’t even know I’m alive.”

“Promise,” Frank nods. “Ya know my word is good.”

“Alright then, let’s get this Twilight Zone show on the road,” Micro goes to his computers. “Got anything else other than a name?”

“Just that he’s over two hundred years old.”

“Okaaaaaay…….Fine, I’ll try and make it work. Just sit tight.”

 

 

**

 

 

A knock on the door startles John and she wonders if Frank is back already.

“Bloody hell, how fast  _are_ pizzerias in this city?!” she calls out.

“Expecting someone else?” comes the cockney accent of Chas.

“Oh, wasn’t expecting you mate,” John turns around, one arm full of Assyrian spell parchments.

“Clearly,” Chas wiggles his eyebrows. “Getting pizza with Frank now, huh? That’s nice and cosy.”

“Oh piss off,” John scowls.

“Sooooo? How is it going?”

“You mean apart from the fact that Papa Midnite wants to rip me organs out through me arse? Just peachy.”

“I mean with Frank, you tosser,” Chas rolls his eyes.

“Oh….umm….”

Now John’s fucking blushing and she hates it. This should not be happening like this. John was always that sort of cocky seductress who had a string of lovers a mile long. Now she was acting like a shy teenage girl all over again.

_Just like I did with Kit in the early days._

“Well spit it out,” Chas folds his arms. “Did you shag or didn’t you?”

“No, we didn’t. We just…slept next to each other,” John admits.

“Wow,” Chas’ eyes go wide. “I never thought I’d see the day where you didn’t fuck someone on a first meeting. This guy must be really interesting to you.”

“Are you calling me a slag, Chas?”

“If the cock fits.”

“Just because you’re stuck with Renee doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy meself,” John huffs. “I am capable of romance now and again.”

“Ohhhh!  _Romance_ is it?” Chas’ face splits into the widest grin. “Is Johnny catching feelings? Is ickle Johnnykins in luuuuurve?”

“I swear I’ll fucking deck you in a minute, mate,” John’s fists clench. “Leave it out.”

“I’m just winding you up, no need to spout off,” Chas laughs, clapping a burly hand on her shoulder. “I’m happy for you, I am. I’m just glad you’re giving romance a second a chance in the first place. I want to see you smile sometimes. I miss happy John.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…..fuck…” John groans, running her hands over her cheeks and dragging the skin down to make a stupid face. “It came out of nowhere.”

“And now just enjoy the ride,” Chas squeezes her shoulder. “I know your life is ten shades of bat shit crazy but take the good things where you can.”

“Yeah yeah, stop going on about it,” John squirms away. “Anyway, what’s Midnite coming after me for?”

“Because he lost a payday and whatever it was he was chasing from what you told me.”

“He could just ask me to get this thing for him. He didn’t have to be a colossal knob about it.”

“He’s never been straightforward though,” Chas rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure if he’s after revenge or a favour at this point but be careful. He took out Benji because Benji didn’t want to give you up.”

“Jesus Christ,” John breathes “I’d say revenge in that case. I’m glad this place has wardings. Will you do me a solid and make sure Lee is protected? He’s the only one who knows how to do Necromancy without the toll.”

“Yeah I’ll head there now. Sure you’ll be good?”

“Frank should be coming back soon so I’ll be alright,” John nods. “Makes me feel a little better having someone with military training around, even if they can’t do spellwork,”

“And I’m just….what?” Chas does his best bitchface. “Seriously, five years in the army and you never remember….such a great pal.”

“Bore off, Chas. Your inner Mumsnet is showing,” John snorts. “Catch you later.”

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

 

 

**

 

 

“Frank, what the fuck  _is_ this guy?” Micro frowns, several tabs open, all with information about Papa Midnite. “He’s showing up in medical lithographs from the 1800s.”

“She did say he was old,” Frank shrugs.

“Yeah but all these experimentation reports suggest he can’t die…or at least he can but he resurrects.  I don’t think there is any way to kill him.”

“But there has to be a way to keep him contained,” Frank scowls. “I can’t have him goin’ after her.”

“I don’t think you have a choice here,” Micro points out. “They tried burning, hanging, electroshock, decapitation,  _dissolving in lye_ …..nothing worked.”

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Frank slams his hands on the desk making everything wobble precariously. “I will  _not_ stand by whilst he beats her again.”

“There’s one thing they didn’t try,” Micro says quietly. “But it’s horrible.”

“Anythin’ Lieberman. Tell me.”

“Burying him. Burying him so even if he resurrects, he can’t escape. All their experiments were to see how much torture he could take. No one was trying to actively get rid of him.”

“I know just the place,” Frank says darkly. “Any way I can contact him?”

“Well chatter on the voodoo forums, and I can’t believe this is a sentence I’m saying, says he has a 'lair’ in Harlem. I’ll print out the address for you.”

“Thanks,” comes the gruff reply.

“Are you sure you can do this Frank? You’re not….I mean you’re good at killing and all but magic users? That’s even more terrifying than the metahumans. Literally anything could happen.”

“I gotta do this, Lieberman,” Frank sighs. “For her.”

“You really like her, don’t you?” Micro leans back in his chair, a soft expression on his face.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Frank admits. “And that’s terrifyin’ all on its own. Thanks for the help. I got some work to do.”

He loads up his toolkit, wondering if he should put on the Punisher vest. Would that extra bit of intimidation help or hinder him? John was quite an aggressive character and that didn’t seem to go so well for her with Midnite.

_I’ll leave it here. Better to have the element of surprise. If I announce who I fuckin’ am, he’s gonna be defensive. I need to get him to the construction site n’ he ain’t gonna do that if I go in guns blazing._

So he left, the bare essentials in the trunk of his car, towards Harlem and the disused warehouse where Papa Midnite resided.

Getting into the place was easy but he sure didn’t feel welcome. The people around just radiated hostility, as if they could sense Frank was an ordinary guy and nothing special.

_Keep it together, Frankie. For her._

“You don’t belong here,” comes a curt voice from a chair at the back of the factory floor, a flickering fire simmering away in a pit before them.

He could barely make out the silhouette but there was a regalness to the way he was sitting. This had to be him, right? Frank couldn’t see anyone else who gave off a natural leader vibe.

“Nawww, I don’t,” he answers gruffly, stepping forward and around the fire pit until Midnite comes into view.

He’s wearing an impeccable purple suit, hands adorned with jewelled rings. He would look every inch the primped and perfect modern gangster were it not for the necklace of tiny bones and the garishly vibrant Jamaican calico sash at his waist.

“Then why are you here?” Midnite raises his eyebrow. “You’re no magic user and you certainly aren’t a native in this part of town.”

“I need a favour,” Frank folds his arms. “Heard you’re the man to speak to.”

“I don’t do  _favours_ ,” Midnite sneers, leaning back in his chair. “I only do deals. Are you willing to trade something?”

“What do ya want?”

“Depends what you ask of me.”

“I need someone dealt with.”

“Forgive me for being facetious but you look like you can take care of that yourself,” Midnite looks Frank up and down, assessing his frame.

“Not against a magus, I can’t,” Frank shakes his head.

Midnite’s interest is clearly peaked now because he leans forward suddenly, his hands tented together. He seems to consider something for a time before waving for Frank to continue.

“Heard you may know 'em.”

“I know a few magi, you’ll have to be specific. Stop being cryptic now, I don’t have all day.”

“Constantine.”

Immediately Midnite bolted up and was in Frank’s personal space within seconds, “Did you say Constantine?  _John_ Constantine? Arrogant little blonde girl? British?”

“That’s her,” Frank nods. “She’s makin’ all kinda trouble for me but I ain’t exactly able to match her…skills.”

“I understand,” Midnite puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder and Frank resists the urge to rip it off and Midnite’s arm with it. “She’s given me  _many_ decades of trouble. Deluded woman thinks she’s humanity’s saviour above all others. That’s she’s God’s chosen.”

“Is she?” Frank can’t help but ask. He was a former Catholic after all and the question interested him.

“It’s true she was meant to be bring the second Messiah into the world, yes. She was part of God’s plan but that is done with now and yet she still clings to the idea of destiny.”

“Second Messiah? Ya mean she was gonna give birth to Jesus number two?”

“Until she fucked that up like she does so many other things,” Midnite scoffs. “I digress. What is your issue with Constantine?”

“She’s helpin’ out those who killed my family,” Frank fakes the anger. “I ain’t standin’ for it. I can’t get near the damn murderers with her there.”

“I’ll help you,” Midnite decides, turning his back to Frank and looking skyward to the ceiling adorned with streamers of skulls and bones and herbs. “As trade, I expect one month of service from you. You look…useful.”

“Done,” Frank nods. “I can lure Constantine out to a location. Can you do the rest?”

“I can do anything,” Midnite scowls. “Here is my contact number. When you’re ready, I’ll enjoy making that little harridan scream again.”

Frank just mutely agrees, taking the card Midnite hands him, walking out before his face can betray him. He so desperately wanted to kill the vodun priest right there but he couldn’t. Hearing him talking about John that way was just awful to listen to.

_John’s right. You’re a fuckin’ bastard n’ I ain’t ever gonna feel remorse for doin’ what I’m gonna do to ya tonight._

 

 

**

 

Hanging around at the construction site, Frank was getting nervous.

He’d messaged Midnite twenty minutes ago and still no sign. Maybe he wasn’t as slick as he thought and the priest knew exactly what he was planning.

“Fuckin’ come on,” he mutters to the dark girders surrounding him.

He’d positioned himself on the third level, overlooking the concrete mixer. One swift crack of Midnite’s neck and a dunk in the granite and his problems would be over. That is, if the guy ever showed.

“Pleasant little place,” comes that sneering voice. “So…where is she?”

“Far away,” Frank replies, taking out his combat knife.

“Oh no,” Midnite rolls his eyes and sighs. “You’re one of her lovers, aren’t you? This is just a cheap trap.”

“I saw what ya did,” Frank growls. “Those marks. You ain’t ever doin’ that to her again.”

“And you think you can stop me? I’M FUCKING IMMORTAL YOU INSOLENT SHIT!” Midnite roars, the sound bouncing off the empty walls. “Not to mention you lack the qualities to do magic. You’re outgunned, outnumbered, out-”

Bang!

Frank didn’t let him finish his sentence before he put one bullet straight in the priest’s chest with his hidden pistol.

Midnite staggered for a second before the most horrible series of hisses and mangled words escaped his mouth. Frank didn’t understand what was going on until he felt like he was being stabbed multiple times across all of his limbs, like he’d just jumped bodily onto a bed of nails.

“This is not a fight,” Midnite spits, keeping pressure on his wound. “This is pest control. John Constantine’s lovers come out of the woodwork occasionally. Some have tried to kill me before but they’ve never succeeded and neither will you.”

Through the searing pain, Frank manages to shoot again. The aim was off because his arm kept shaking but it punched into Midnite’s gut as he let out a howl of indignation.

The agony got even worse. It felt like Frank’s insides were being twisted, forcibly shoved apart, all whilst the needling pain continued.

“Frank!” he heard John’s voice coming from behind him. “What the bloody hell-”

A flash of light arcs over Frank’s head and he sees out of the corner of his eye, John dodging to the side and rolling onto her feet again.

“Midnite,” John’s eyes are locked on the priest, pure hatred and anger on her face. “How dare you hurt him!”

“Oh? You actually care for this one?” Midnite manages to laugh. “Well I am surprised. It’s no matter though. He’ll be dead soon. As for you, I’ll take my lost payment in blood.”

“I like my blood where it is,” John scowls before doing a complicated series of hand motions.

“You’ve never defeated me in magical combat, John. Don’t embarrass yourself,” Midnite grunts as he ties his sash around the bullet hole in his stomach.

“Aye, voodoo and vodun might be very powerful but you forget what I know,” John says seriously.

“The Dark Arts?” Midnite bursts into laughter. “You never use it John and we both know why. Magic comes at a price.”

“I think it’ll be worth it just to get you out of my life for good.”

Frank tries to get to her, tries to stop what she’s going to do because he knows it’ll be nothing pleasant. He doesn’t make it in time though.

“ _Nethalarnesqa eeunkweth haradayne_.”

The words sounded like nails on a chalkboard and it set Frank on edge, like he instinctively knew how evil it was to speak them.

_No, no Johnny girl. What have you done?_

To his horror, Papa Midnite began melting into discoloured sludge. There was the most horrendous burbling sound, almost slimey in its cadence but he didn’t have to listen to it long.

“Scoop him up. Put him in the cement,” John instructs him, swaying slightly.

“Are you-” Frank wanted to ask if she was okay after doing a spell that bad.

“Just do it, lad! Quickly!” she barks.

The military man in Frank came out as he used a shovel and a bucket to get Midnite’s remains cleared up before going to a portable cement mixer. He poured the contents in, turning it on and just started laying out the mixture in the foundations for the third floor.

Even if Midnite reformed his body, he’d be trapped in the cement and unable to break loose.

Then there’s a thud and he turns to see John sprawled on the floor.

“Shit!” he cries, abandoning the mixer all over the ground to run to her.

She was ice cold when he reached her, lips going a disturbing shade of blue whilst her fingers had turned pure white. She was breathing but barely.

“John! Johnny girl! Wake up!” he shook her and her eyelids fluttered open with great effort. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Magic….price….” she says feebly. “Almost killed me.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank launches into an apology, cradling her in his arms. “Fuck, I’m so damn sorry. I should never have gone after him. I was outmatched and I didn’t fuckin’ take heed. John, I’m sorry.”

John manages to sit up again, the colour slowly returning to her as she fixes him with a sorrowful stare.

“It nearly happened again,” she whispers before stumbling to her feet and rocking unsteadily on them. “I nearly lost someone again.”

“No no no,” Frank jumps up, seeing that expression and fearing the worst. “I’m fine. I ain’t gotta scratch on me. Don’t you dare, John. Don’t you dare run.”

“You nearly got killed, Frank. I can’t do this. Jesus fucking Christ, you even put yourself in harm’s way to begin with. I should never have let someone into my life again because it was only going to go one way. This just proves it.”

“Stop lookin’ for damn excuses to not feel,” Frank snaps. “Think this ain’t scary for me too? I’m so invested I go pickin’ fights with beings that are far beyond what I’m used to. I just wanna keep ya safe.”

“I’m never safe, Frank,” John starts tearing up a little. “This is my life. It’s one danger after another. I’m always one day away from death. You can’t protect me from that and I never asked you to try. I can’t do this. I need to go.”

“John, wait!” Frank moves towards her.

“I can’t have another Kit. It’s better if you stay away from me,” he hears her say as parting words as she opens up a portal quickly and vanishes, just as he’s about to reach out and touch her.

“FUCK!” Frank yells, kicking the bucket against the wall where it clangs loudly.

She was right though. She never asked him to try and protect her. She’d been totally honest from the moment he met her that her life was always dangerous and she was used to it. He’d overstepped the boundary massively and dredged up trauma for her in the process.

_Shit, I fucked up bad._

And now she’d probably disappeared into the wind. He’d lost his chance with her.

 

He took a look at the newly laid concrete and saw an eye staring back at him, Midnite already reforming. Frank just sighs heavily before pouring some more cement over the eye and levelling it out.

_I’m sorry, John. I really am. I hope you ain’t run away for good. I really thought we had somethin’ special._


	8. This Is The Second Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s in the wind after the showdown with Midnite and Frank loses himself in the battle against Russo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mentions of torture
> 
> (Proof reading errors likely)
> 
> Happy reading  
> TLP xx

John fell out of the portal, legs splayed and arms flailing into Chas’ living room, face planting into the shagpile rug.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” she heard her friend yell followed by rapid footsteps and a shriek of indignation.

“Francis! Get your friend off my expensive rug! She’s ruining it!”

Clearly Chas’ wife Renee was in full compassion mode. She never did like John in the slightest. Always thought she was a bad influence or was worried that she might try it on with Chas someday and end their marriage.

John thought that was effing ridiculous considering Chas was like a brother to her but some women are just that insecure.

“Hang on, Renee!” Chas scowls. “John would never drop in like this unless something went bad. Mate, are you alright?”

“Dying,” John manages to rasp out.

That’s why she’d made a quick escape, why she’d run from Frank without explaining. It’s true she was afraid that the marine had just charged headlong into trying to fight a near immortal voodoo priest because clearly Frank had no regard for his life but…..but she found she still cared. She still cared and that’s why she didn’t want him to see her dying.

Dying from overuse of the Dark Arts is not pretty. It’s not like passing away peacefully or passing away from a stab wound that’s just a bit messy. Dark Arts deaths tended to be particularly violent.

John had experienced it once before and she’d never forgotten the sheer agony.

“Dying?!” Chas squeaks. “Shit, what do I do?”

“Cryo procedure,” John gasps. “Gotta have a body to come back to.”

“Renee, get all the chips out of the chest freezer, NOW!” Chas barks and if John was feeling normal, she would’ve revelled in the sulking pout Renee gave just him.

Cryo procedure had been established after the second time John had died. It’s all well and good fighting your way out of Hell but if you don’t have a reasonable corpse to pop back into, you’d get stuck as a ghost until you could either fix your body or possess someone else’s. John was rather attached to the body she had.

“Done!” Renee shouts.

“Easy now, I’m gonna lift you,” Chas warns, scooping his arms under her before lifting up and carrying John into the pantry area.

From there, he lay her gently into the freezer, a look of grave concern on his face.

“Are you gonna be alright?”

“No, I’m fucking dying you twat,” she hisses, black spittle tracking down her chin as she speaks. “I’ll be grand though. I know the ways out of Hell now…I think.”

“If you don’t come back in three months, I’m going to bury you,” Chas warns. “I’m not having you in my freezer indefinitely. That’s valuable ice cream space you’re taking up.”

John knew Chas was defaulting to humour to cover his own fear but she appreciated it all the same. It was good to have a friend like Chas.

“You don’t need any more ice cream, you fat bastard,” John laughs, hacking as she does so and coughing up more black bile.

“Not all of us are blessed with a demon’s metabolism,” Chas tries to give a withering look. “Do you want me to stay until the end?”

“Nah mate, you see enough horrors. Close the lid and let me pass. I’ll see you soon.”

“You’d better, John. You’d better.”

  
  


**

  
  


Frank tried to look for John for a month straight.

She didn’t turn up at the new safehouse, she didn’t go back to the penthouse and she wasn’t hanging around any local bars. He even kept an eye out trying to see the flash of a tan trenchcoat, no matter what gender the person was but there was nothing.

She’d completely gone MIA.

_She’s old, Frankie. She’d know how to disappear if she wanted to._

Micro had seemed to sense the change in Frank, the anger returning, the short temperedness and thank fuck he hadn’t said anything. Frank might have exploded if he’d tried.

Instead of moping, he threw himself back into his mission with a lot more hatred than before. It was born of a hatred for himself that he’d messed things up so badly. This was the only way he knew how to keep his head level.

Unfortunately it had also led him into the situation he was in now, which was strapped to a chair and being tortured by both Russo and Rawlins, the real brains behind his family’s murder.

“You’re not going out just yet, Castle,” Rawlins smirks horribly before injecting Frank with adrenalin.

Frank felt his heart rate pick up, like he’d just done a marathon and he was breathless, desperately trying to shove air into his lungs. His muscles were screaming with the need to move but he was bound tightly.

Fuck, he was done. He thought the incident with Midnite was bad but this was drawn out, slow and intermittent.

_Just let me die already._

“Stupid grunts like you should know their place,” Rawlins fixed knuckledusters to his hands, delivering a gut punch that sent blood spewing from Frank’s mouth down his tank top. “And I’m gonna make sure you know yours before I’m done with you.”

Frank blacked out on the next punch which rocked his head so violently he thought he’d died right then and there.

Instead he saw Maria, Maria was calling to him.

“Come home,” she said. “You’ve done enough.”

She looked beautiful in the gown she’d gotten married to him in, twirling daintily in the spotlight. Then Frank caught the whirl of tan fabric out of the corner of his eye and he turned to see John, standing behind him, hands in her coat pockets before the two women merged and now Frank was seeing John in Maria’s wedding dress.

“Come home to us.”

Both women had separated out again, holding their hands out to him.

“Come home.”

It would be so easy just to give up right now, to slip away. Why was he fighting so hard when he had nothing left? Shouldn’t he be with his family? That’s what mattered right?

If he clung to life, all he’d have to look forward to is more pain, more anger. He was tired of fighting when everything kept falling to shit.

_Let go. It won’t hurt any more. Let go._

And he did.

 

**

 

The image of Maria and John faded until everything was replaced by red. Everything was red and everything was stifling hot. Everything was dust.

In that moment, Frank became a God fearing man.

_I’m in Hell. Well…guess I fuckin’ deserve it. Can’t murder a bunch a’ folks without retribution._

He stood up, his body renewed and his energy back. He was still wearing the same blood stained clothes but his wounds were gone now.

He looked upwards and all he could see was a whirling maelstrom of angry scarlet clouds as far as the horizon stretched. It was like being in the desert all over again. His mouth was already dry and his lips cracking.

Shit. What was he going to do now? Was he just supposed to wait for eternal punishment? Is this it?

He wanders in the direction of some rocks, intent on climbing them so he can gain a better vantage point. Maybe he’d be able to spot something, anything.

The rocks are jagged, the points digging into the flesh of his palms as he hoists himself up and up, trying to get to the top. It’s hard work without equipment and Frank is not a light man by any means.

Eventually he scrambles over the top and stands up.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

He nearly fell backwards at hearing that voice,  _her_  voice.

John was sitting on the opposite side, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth and she was in black stained clothes but strangely her trenchcoat was clear.

“Johnny girl?!”

“Aye lad, it’s me,” she shrugs. “As in actually me. I’m not a hallucination if that’s what you think. Hell doesn’t work the same way since Lucifer left.”

“I searched for ya,” he starts, not knowing how to finish his train of thought. “For weeks.”

“I’ve been dead the whole time,” she smiles a little sadly. “Dark Arts magic comes at a price. My life for Midnite’s.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Frank hangs his head. “I shoulda never gone after him. Fuckin’ stupid. I caused this.”

“Yeah, yeah you did,” she replies bluntly. “And me death were bloody ‘orrible but it’s in the past now. How come  _you_ got here?”

“Got tortured to death by a man I thought was my friend,” Frank sighs, sitting down next to her. “He caused my family’s murder. I just couldn’t hold on any more to see it through.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” John frowns, looking at him. “You’re the most tenacious bugger I’ve ever known.”

“Fine, I didn’t  _want_  to see it through any more. Fuckin’ hurt, girl. They had me for hours.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “What a pair we are, eh? Welcome to hell by the way. The ambience is shit and there’s no table service.”

Frank just lets out a long breath before turning to her, “John, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn'ta gone for Midnite, that was fuckin’ rookie shit. You can take care a’ yaself n’ I didn’t trust that. I overstepped the line.”

“Frank,” she takes a long drag of the cigarette. “It’s done. No need to apologise, lad. It were weeks ago now. I’m over it.”

“Ain’t no excuse-”

“Button it,” she gives him a sardonic look. “No need to go all Catholic confession on me.”

“I  _am_  Catholic,” Frank snorts. “Ma would beat me from beyond the grave if I said otherwise.”

“Don’t think she can get you here,” John laughs to herself.

“So….why are  _you_  here still? I thought you knew how to get out?”

“I did. Turns out the First of the Fallen has blocked off a lot of the exits since me last daring escape. I’ve tried one every day since I’ve been here. Only got three sodding routes left and if they don’t work…game over.”

The First of the Fallen. John had mentioned something akin to an arch nemesis who ran hell. Guess this must be him.

“I need to get back,” John looks to the sky in frustration. “Me body is just sitting in Chas’ freezer and I hate making him worried. Renee’s probably thrown twenty packs of peas on me by now just to spite me.”

“You’re in Chas’ freezer?”

“Long story. Gotta keep meself preserved. Didn’t know how long I’d be here.”

“So if I get back n’ my body is….”

“I hope there’s still something left of it,” John says seriously. “Do you think they’d burn you?”

“Naww, prolly just toss me in a river,” Frank thinks about it. “Maybe Russo will get sentimental n’ bury me in a flag.”

“Fingers crossed. Water damage and earth I can fix but I can’t bring a body back from being cremated.”

“So we’re getting out together, huh?” Frank raises an eyebrow.

“You think I’d leave you in this shithole?” John gestures around herself. “How else are you ever going to make it up to me if I leave you?”

“Make it up to ya?” Frank chuckles to himself. “Depends whatcha want.”

“I’ll think a’ summat,” she winks.

“PG or non PG?” Frank can’t resist but fall back into their normal teasing repertoire.

“Now that would be telling,” John smirks. “Plus I don’t know your stamina levels.”

“I ain’t braggin’ or nothin’ but I do 'aight,” Frank laughs.

“Interesting…”

“So whatever ya want. I’ll make it up to ya if we get out.”

“You know, I’ve already tried one route today but what’s one more right?” she stands up, finishing the last of her cigarette and flicking the butt into the air where it gets whipped away into a small dust storm.

She holds out her hand and pulls Frank to his feet.

“Let’s jailbreak from hell.”


	9. Everlasting Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in Hell, Frank and John must find a way out before it’s too late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Angst
> 
> (Some proof reading errors likely)
> 
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx

“So, uh…..where do we start?” Frank asks, looking around himself at the barren and bare landscape. “Don’t see no roads.”

“It’s more a construct world,” John tries to explain. “You wanna see a road? There’ll be a road. For me, I like to imagine a travelator because it saves me legs.”

“Right…” Frank trails off, completely out of his depth. “I’ll follow ya lead.”

“Probably for the best,” she winks. “Now, before we go marching out into No Man’s Land, lemme ask you summat first. I saved the nastiest ways outta hell for last and I’m down to the last three. Which sounds more appealing to you to try first: The Marsh of Souls, the Spire of Torment or The Burning Lake?”

Frank blinks, “None.”

“Smart lad,” she nods wisely. “I’ll describe how they’ll go so you can make an informed decision, like. The Burning Lake is the nastiest of them all. You have to dive to the bottom all whilst feeling your skin bubble away and your eyeballs burning out. The Spire of Torment feels like you’re being tortured the entire way up to the top. The Marsh of Souls has people from your past try to guilt you into staying still so they can pull you down underneath. None of it is thrilling.”

“Huh, that all?” Frank jokes. “Shit, guess it was never gonna be easy gettin’ out. I ain’t much for more pain right now so….The Marsh of Souls?”

“That would’ve been me first option,” John nods. “Now concentrate and imagine a road, a road that leads to a patch of marshland. The marsh is deep, it’s churned up with mud and hands come out of it like reeds.”

Frank concentrates, picturing this in his mind.

“Well done. I’m impressed,” she laughs. “Open your eyes Frank.”

And there it was. The very road he’d been picturing. It reminded him of the roads in Kandahar, dusty, tarmac melting in places and a dull slate grey.

“Let’s go before the local residents find out we’re trying to leave,” John looks around herself and Frank knows that look. It’s a look of hyper vigilance.

She may be doing her best to seem casual but John was scared and she was on high alert. He thought it was cute she was trying to keep him calm despite how she felt.

They set off down the road and Frank is surprised when she takes his hand, guiding him along. He would’ve assumed she was still mad about the Papa Midnite thing.

When they eventually reached the marsh, their lips cracking from the arid heat and their clothing plastered to their bodies, John stops before taking a big breath.

“Not gonna lie, Frank, this is going to get hairy,” she looks almost haunted as she surveys the mud strewn field. “Everyone you’ve ever wronged will pop out and it’ll be bloody awful. You need to remember it’s not real and to keep moving. If you stop, they’ll get you and you’ll get thrown deeper into the levels of Hell. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Ma'am,” Frank says quietly, knowing she was being deadly serious.

“If you make it to the other side, you’ll be thrown back into your body. If you don’t, I’ll stop and I’ll come back for you. Once you get back to the land of the living, for god’s sake get out of wherever place you are. I will find you. Just don’t panic.”

“Kinda sounds like we’re on a last stand,” Frank looks at her, adrenalin fired up with nervousness. “Are we?”

“Three exits left and if we don’t get out soon, we’ll be stuck here,” she grits her jaw. “And I’ve made a lot of bloody demonic enemies in me lifetime.”

“It’ll be ‘aight,” Frank reassures her. “If we’re stuck here, I’m with ya, girl.”

“Cheers,” she smiles, a little forced. “Count of three then?”

“Yup.”

“Oh and Frank? Before we go into this shithole…”

She grabs him roughly by the vest and kisses him like it’s going out of style. He’s surprised and flounders a little before winding his arms around her waist. Fuck, he wished this was topside rather than down in Hell. He could feel how dry her skin was, how much weight she’d lost through not eating down here. He just wanted her to be okay rather than her worrying about him.

“Just in case this all goes tits up,” she pulls back. “Didn’t want this to end on a bad note.”

“Ya know, we get outta here, I’ll take ya on a date,” he snorts, readying himself. “Something normal.”

“As if anything is ever normal around me, lad,” she laughs.

“I promise,” he smirks. “Restaurant, wine or whatever ya wanna drink and coffee to finish the evening off.”

Something like intense longing and sadness passed over her face, “That would be grand.”

Frank figured she’d never had a normal type of relationship so he wanted to show her that just once, things could go smoothly, that she could forget about monsters and demons for one night. That was if they got out of here of course.

“One…two…..three!” John cries before leaping forward into the marsh and wading forward as quickly as she could.

Frank jumped in too and no sooner he did than hands started trying to claw for him. He pushed on, feeling the marshland squelch underneath his feet, trying to suck his legs further down with each step but he pressed on.

“Daddy?”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck no. Not his kids.

“It’s not real Frank!” John shouts, a man behind her trying to grip her trenchcoat. He seemed wizened, like he’d died of extreme starvation. “Keep going!”

He didn’t look down. He could feel the tiny hands trying to grab his jean’s belt loops but he kept walking.

“Daddy, you got us killed,” comes the voice of Frank Jr. “It was your fault.”

“You did that thing in Kandahar and they came for us,” comes the voice of Lisa.

“You got us all killed,” Maria’s voice rings out and he feels her slide her hand up his back, trying to grasp his vest.

His chest felt like it was clenching and all he wanted to do was sob his heart out. Even after all this time, it was still raw. Hearing their accusing voices, hearing the horrible things they were saying to him, he wanted to stop still and try and explain himself.

“I didn’t know,” he fights them off. “I didn’t fuckin’ know!”

“Frank!” John calls, making her way to him before grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. “Come on, luv, you can’t linger here.”

“Daddy, don’t abandon us again!” Frank Jr cries.

“Don’t listen!” John says fiercely, yanking him practically along. “Keep going. It’s not much further.”

Frank looked ahead and he could see the other side of the bank. It was enshrouded in a kind of undulating mist that always kept the same waving pattern. He couldn’t give up now.

“You didn’t even read to me, Daddy,” Lisa whines, the voice coming from next to him. “You got mad. You got mad and I died the next day. Didn’t you love me?”

“With all my heart, baby,” he chokes up, the effort of pulling his boots up becoming more and more laboured. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“Come on!” John roars, giving him the strength to continue.

He had to continue on. He couldn’t linger in the past. He had a new girl now, a girl he had to look after. She was trying to save him and he couldn’t let her down by just giving up.

With renewed purpose, he gritted his teeth, almost roaring with the effort of wading through, shrugging off the hands that tried to pull him down.

Then he almost bumped into John as she stood stock still, staring at a man in front of her. Frank recognised him from the photo. It was Kit.

“Why did you let that happen to me, lasslin’?” comes the broad Belfast accent. “I loved ya. I loved ya n’ ya let demons rip me apart. Mo mhuirnín, did ya ever love me?”

“Yes,” John starts shaking and Frank can feel the vibration up her hand holding his. “With everything I had.”

“I asked ya to marry me,” Kit continues and Frank can see John’s sinking into the mud. “I was gonna be yer husband, John. Ya let me down. Ya got me killed like everyone else.”

“JOHN!” Frank barks in her ear and she jumps at the sound, shaking her head to clear it. “Don’t you dare stand still, girl.”

“Ya already shacked up with the next poor bastard,” the vision of Kit continues. “Ya never tried to find me in Heaven.”

“I can never go to sodding Heaven,” John hisses, yanking herself away from the spectre. “And Kit would never ask that of me. He’d tell me to carry on.”

With a great effort, they both launch themselves towards the mist, half falling into it and Frank feels a great pull behind his navel as he’s launched upwards, the wind speeding past his face  There’s the sensation of being stuffed into something cramped and dark and then he opens his eyes…

  
  


**

  
  


John awoke with a start, banging her head on the freezer lid and swearing loudly.

Her body felt cold, so so cold and it took her a while to move her fingers so she could brace them against the lid, pushing it open and yelling loudly. She heard footsteps rushing towards her and then Chas flung himself into the room.

“John! You fucking cock!” he cries, bending down to pull her out. “I thought you’d genuinely bit the dust this time! I was arranging your bloody funeral! I’m going to get spam emails for years now!”

“Oh piss off,” she chatters through her teeth. “Get me a map now. Frank’s in trouble.”

“Crystal?”

“Aye. Stat.”

Chas runs at full pelt to his storage cupboard, yanking papers out before sprinting back and throwing them on the floor. John grabs the crystal, smoothing the map out and swinging it around, chanting quickly.

“How do you know he’s in trouble?” Chas asks.

“He were in hell with me,” John babbles, watching the movement of the crystal. “Got killed by some government bell ends. I need to find him in case he’s in some coffin somewhere suffocating.”

“What happened, John?”

“Hell exits are being closed,” John murmurs. “Only three left. That’s why I took so long.”

Then the crystal was drawn to a point on the map, plinking heavily and John could see it was a river. Just like Frank had said.

“I need to go,” she stands up, wobbling.

“John, mate, you look like a smurf right now. Just wait a sec and I’ll get tea.”

John looks up at the mirror in the living room and sees the sickly blue sheen to her skin and the blackened tips of her fingers. She looked like utter utter shit but there was no time to be insecure now.

“No time,” she blusters, making a hasty portal. “Be back soon.”

“John, wait!” Chas calls.

But it was too late. John had already thrown herself through the portal, falling into silt and muddying her face up. She scrambles up, seeing a body that was on the river bank and rushing towards it, turning it over.

It was Frank.

He was breathing but he wasn’t moving. John panicked, using the words of the healing spell, wincing at the bruises and the cuts, the broken ribs and the chipped teeth she could feel as she worked the magic through him.

“Come on, you fucking bastard, say summat,” she mutters.

Then he coughs and she feels her body sag with relief. He must’ve really been beaten to shit from the injuries he had.

“Hey, darlin’,” he croaks, blinking against the harsh light of the sun. “My eyes must be kinda funny 'cos ya look blue.”

“I  _am_  blue, I’ve not healed meself yet,” she laughs. “Come on, let’s get back to Chas’.”

She made another portal, dropping them in Renee’s bathroom because she knew if she got mud on her carpets, Chas’d be strangled and he’d been through enough lately.

“Is that you, John?” Chas calls.

“Aye, I’m stood in your missus’ bathtub.”

Then Chas comes in, seeing her and Frank, dirtied and unkempt.

“Afternoon,” Chas nods to Frank. “Welcome to our world.”

“Can’t say I care much for the dyin’ part,” Frank coughs, trying to dislodge river water from his throat.

“Nah, not the highlight of our lives,” Chas agrees. “'Preciate you keeping the house tidy, John. Renee would go spare if there was any mess.”

“Aye, I remember being on the receiving end of a plant pot being thrown at me face,” John grimaces, before adding to Frank. “I got blood on her white suede sofa after killing a Lubber fiend.”

“Clean yourself up you two. I’ll get you some clean clothes and then I’ll make tea.”

“Chas, mate, you’re a fucking legend,” John groans and Chas leaves the bathroom.

“So,” Frank says awkwardly. “How do you wanna…uh….”

“I’m not precious,” John strips off her outer clothing, dumping it in a bag nearby.

She feels a little self conscious, watching his eyes drag over the scars of many fights previous. It wasn’t a pretty body that she had after many years of doing this.

_Come on, you silly tit, say something. Stop staring._

“Thought you’d have more tattoos,” Frank says simply before removing his clothing down to the boxers.

“Only got the ones I need,” she motions to her back. “Having occult tatts down me arms is just a flashing beacon that I’m a target for the demonic.”

She does her best not to look at Frank’s body which was extremely muscular and toned, not to mention his boxers seemed to strain in just the right area. It wasn’t polite to gawp at him so she turned her back, switching the shower on.

“I like these,” she feels his fingers tracing patterns across her back. “Kinda like some ancient warrior.”

“I  _feel_  bloody ancient most days,” she quips, washing the mud from her front and the excess of the bile she’d coughed up whilst dying.

“John.”

Then he gently spins her around and she shyly looks up at him. He seemed to want to ask her a million things but was unable to.

“Thank you,” he starts. “For not lettin’ me go.”

“Cheers for helping me at the final hurdle,” she shrugs, feeling very embarrassed now.

“Come on, lemme help,” he reaches past her and takes the loofah, softly washing her body.

It made her feel tense, like she wasn’t expecting this level of attention, of affection. She didn’t know what to do.

“Relax, darlin’,” he chuckles. “I’m just cleaning ya. That’s all.”

She looks up into his eyes, crinkled with warmth and knows. She knows she in deep over her head and she’s got strong feelings for this man. She’d escaped Hell with him, she’d immediately gone to him when they’d got out, she was even showering with him now.

“Shit, I’m still blue!” she remembers, crossing her arms over her body. “Fucking hell, that’s mortifying.”

“Hey, it’s exotic,” Frank shrugs, laughing. “I don’t mind, girl. Ya came for me straight away. Makes a guy feel good, ya know?”

She chants the words of the healing spell for herself and feels less like the water is scalding her skin. When she looks down, she’s back to her natural skin colour.

“No more smurf,” she smiles quickly.

“John, ya don’t need to be afraid a’ me,” Frank says softly, guessing what was going on. “I’m not runnin’ anywhere n’ it’s okay to have feelings.”

“You heard what Kit said,” she breathes quietly. “Nobody ever survives long when I start liking them.”

“I already died once,” Frank snorts. “I’m still here, ain’t I? Johnny girl, I really like ya. If I didn’t, I’d just accept my damn lot n’ still be in Hell.”

That made John stiffen a little. Had he really escaped for her? Just to be with her?

“What about your mission?” she says suspiciously.

“Oh I’m sure they’ll shit themselves once they realise I ain’t dead,” Frank winks. “I know where to hit 'em. Revenge ain’t what I’m here for though. I’m here for this idiot Brit girl who thinks she has to face shit alone, deny herself love. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You’ve got to be fucking joking, right?” she blinks. “Why me? I’m not anything special.”

“I think ya are,” he says bravely. “Sorry if that ain’t inkeepin’ with your world view but it’s the truth. Plus I owe ya dinner for the kiss.”

She blushes like a moron, standing further under the shower stream so she can hide her face until she feels Frank move next to her, the water beating down on his head.

“John, just let me in,” Frank says earnestly. “Don’t shut me out.”

“As long as you’re not such a stupid fucking melt in the future,” she finally relents. “I’m not dying again for you.”

“I don’t want you dyin’  _at all_ ,” Frank gathers her in his arms. “I know what I wanna do. I kept wonderin’ what would happen when the mission was finally over, when the men who killed my family had paid their dues. Now I know. I wanna do what you do. I wanna fight, I wanna save people. Teach me.”

“My life is dangerous Frank,” she whispers against his broad chest. “You don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“I do, girl. I really do,” he looks down at her. “The war is never really over. It’s just a different damn war. Lemme be a soldier again, lemme fight beside ya, lemme love ya.”

“Love…”

She trails off upon seeing his deadly serious face. Love though? Could she really allow herself such a luxury? Was it possible any more? Could she open up her heart one more time?

“I want to,” he carries on. “God knows I ain’t pined after a girl like this in years n’ it’s fuckin’ embarrassin’ frankly.”

He was just as shy as she was. She realised that now, after hearing what his family had said to him in the Marsh of Souls. It must have taken him a lot to allow himself the possibility of happiness again.

“Alright, we’ll try it,” she takes a deep breath. “But first we take out those fuckers who killed you.”

“Sure,” Frank nods. “But just for a night, can we just be happy we’re kickin’?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.”

He draws her into a sweet kiss underneath the water where she can feel the heat from the shower and the heat from his skin. It was intensely comforting, almost like this was second nature to her. Fuck, was she already this comfortable around him?

He just keeps kissing her, no sexual intent behind it, just something affectionate.

The door opens and Chas comes in holding a bundle of clothes, “Hey there we go, here’s….oh, oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t….uh…”

“Chas, fuck off!” John hisses, feeling like her whole body must be glowing bright red.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Chas starts laughing. “Just no fucking in the shower please. I have a grandkid living with me.”

“Chas, bloody hell!” John cries. “Get lost, you ginormous twat!”

“I like him,” Frank chuckles as Chas shuts the door. “He’s funny.”

“Don’t tell him that. His ego is already too inflated,” she grumbles. “He’ll get a complex.”

“Now, where were we?” Frank smirks.

“I believe we were…what’s the American phrase? Making out?”

“Yes Ma'am, we were,” Frank pulls her back to him. “And I intend to do a lot more of it.”

They didn’t get out of the shower for a long long while.


	10. Rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa Midnite is gone but now Frank needs to tie up his loose ends and John is there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Angst, Smut, Fluff
> 
> (Proof reading errors possible)
> 
> This is the final chapter! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this fic! It was a completely mad idea when I first dreamt it and couldn’t resist putting it down in fic form. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> \- TLP xx

After finally getting out of the shower, after Frank insisted on washing John clean, they redressed before coming out to see Chas on the sofa, flicking through daytime TV.

“I’m glad there was no noise,” Chas looks over his shoulder.

“Bore off, mate. We didn’t shag,” John rolls her eyes. “Got nicer places to do that than your lavvy.”

“I did  _not_  need that image,” Chas grimaces.

“I did,” Frank chuckles to himself. “So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is here are your cups of tea and just relax for five seconds,” Chas instructs, passing mugs out. “You just climbed out of Hell for fuck’s sake.”

John greedily gulps down the tea before making a long noise of satisfaction and Frank decides he’ll join in. It’s not quite the caffeine hit he’s used to with his black coffee but there was something smoother about the taste.

“What the hell  _is_  this?” he looks down at the oaky swirling liquid. “This ain’t any kinda tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“Because it’s British, you ding dong,” Chas snorts. “Your version of tea has all kinds of sugar in it.”

“Not bad,” Frank muses before sitting down.

“So what’s the plan now?” Chas leans back. “Happy families?”

“Got some business to take care of,” John shrugs. “Mainly the bastards who wiped Frank out.”

“We don’t hafta,” Frank cuts in. “We can be done with it all.”

“I thought you wanted revenge?”

“I’m just tired, girl.”

“Let me help.”

“Ya not gonna let it go, huh?”

“Nope,” John smirks, kicking her legs up on the table. “You didn’t back off with Midnite, I’m not backing off with these two clowns. I’m gonna make sure they suffer.”

“Guess I can’t say shit considerin’ I caused havoc,” Frank laughs softly. “'Aight, girl. We’ll do it your way.”

“I like getting my own way,” she smugly puts her hands behind her head.

“Good luck to you dating this one,” Chas points.

“Come on, Frankie boy. We’d best get back to the penthouse,” John nods. “Got some prep to do. Cheers for everything, Chas. I owe you big time.”

“You do. Renee was all for chucking frozen chips on you about one month in.”

“I bet she was,” John murmurs, rolling her eyes. “My biggest fan.”

“Be fair, mate. You’re a massive fuck up. Can’t blame her for being wary.”

“Wary?!” John cries. “She put vindaloo powder in me brew once because she thought I’d made a pass at you! I mean Jesus Christ, Chas. You’re really not me type.”

“And you’re definitely not mine, eww,” Chas pokes his tongue out. “Go on, get out before she gets back. I doubt she’d enjoy having you  _and_  The Punisher in her living room.”

“Hey, I’m a peach,” Frank holds out his hands. “I charm everyone.”

“Oh god,” Chas groans. “It’s like there are two of you. My worst nightmare.”

“Bloody overdramatic pleb,” John grins. “See you later, pal.”

“Laters.”

And with that, John conjured a portal back to the penthouse, leading Frank through.

 

**

 

It was strange being back.

Most of the penthouse had been trashed to pieces, presumably by Midnite’s cronies. Bottles were smashed, books were torn and scattered, the couch was ripped into shards of stuffing.

“Well…bollocks,” John sighs, looking a little upset. “Fucking bastards.”

“Hey, it’s ‘aight,” Frank holds her. “We can fix it up. Ain’t no problem.”

“This was a lot of work just….destroyed,” she seems a little defeated.

“And we’ll get it back on track. Ain’t no big thing, Johnny girl.”

She just sighs before muttering something and starting to search through the wreckage. Frank watches as she practically wrenches things out of the way until apparently finding what she needed.

“Map and scrying crystal,” she shows him before placing it on the kitchen counter. “I need the names of your killers again.”

“Billy Russo n’ William Rawlins,” Frank watches with interest as she starts swinging the crystal methodically over a map of the local area. “What does that do?”

“Helps me find people. Used it to find you,” she concentrates, poking her tongue out a little.

Then it seems to slam down on a point which Frank recognised to be the park where his family had been shot. Fear prickled at the back of his neck, wondering why the fuck either of them would be there.

“Bollocks,” John hisses, noting Frank’s paling face. “It’s  _that_  park, isn’t it? Shit.”

“He ain’t got a reason to be there,” Frank murmurs. “I don’t get it.”

John moves to some tiles in the kitchen before using a knife to jimmy them loose, pulling out a monitor for what seemed like a CCTV system. She set it down before staring at it, trying to rewind as far as she could.

“Unless one of them’s been studying your movements and cottoned on to my existence,” she says grimly before turning the monitor around so Frank could see Russo ripping the place to shreds. “It wasn’t Midnite. Jesus, all the magical security at my disposal and a marine with a grudge breaks in. Embarrassing.”

“Russo ain’t one to not do his research. He’ll know who you are, what you can do. Doubt he’ll fuckin’ believe it 'til he sees it but he’ll know. Don’t explain why he’s at the carousel.”

“If he’s found the file on my exploits in the London City Mortuary he might be hedging his bets, wondering if you’ll show up. He’ll probably have already checked the river by now just be sure if you’re actually dead.”

“Mortuary?”

“Long story,” she says sheepishly. “May have reanimated a few corpses by mistake. Necromancy is not of me specialities.”

Frank just blinks. It’s not the weirdest thing she’s ever said.

“So he mighta been staking out the park?”

“Aye, question is, who is he waiting for? Is he waiting on the off chance you’ll go back to pay your respects or is he waiting for me to try and take revenge?”

“No loose ends,” Frank wrinkles his nose in distaste. “That was his motto.”

“Right….comforting,” John widens her eyes before going back to the tiles and pulling out something else, something gun shaped.

“Didn’t think you’d need firearms,” Frank nods at it.

“Sometimes it ain’t always monsters and demons,” she says quietly before stowing it in her trenchcoat. “Do I zap you back to Micro’s to tool up?”

“Yeah…yeah he prolly ain’t doin’ so well without me,” Frank winces.

He’d completely forgotten about Micro. 

His desire to just end this thing, to walk away and start a new life had spun his head and he hadn’t given a second consideration for Lieberman and his predicament. What a piece a’ shit he was, selfish.

“Let’s go. I don’t really feel safe here right now,” John looks one last time at the utter mess before conjuring another portal and taking Frank’s hand to pull him through.

When they come across Micro, he’s in a…compromising position.

“ _This_  is what you do with your time, Lieberman?” Frank announces loudly and Micro almost screams, yanking his bathrobe closed so violently he almost gets tangled in it.

“What the fuck, Frank?!” he cries. “Where the fuck were you?!”

“Dead.”

“What?!”

“Rawlins and Russo killed me. John got me back.”

Micro stands up, shuffling over to John and pointing an accusatory finger, “You! You hurt him! He was moping for weeks when you disappeared and was completely distracted from the mission!”

“Yeah, kinda died the day after I left mate. Was stuck in Hell,” John says testily. “Not really me fault.”

“I wasn’t mopin’, Lieberman,” Frank scowls. “I was worried.”

“Lovestruck more like,” Micro huffs.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Frank rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, now you’re not dead…and congrats by the way, welcome back….let’s get on with-”

“We’re already doing it,” John interrupts. “We’re going after Russo and Rawlins right now so we’re here to pick up weapons. Stop worrying squire, we’ll get you back to your family soon.”

Micro opens his mouth several times to speak but fails to until he finally takes a deep breath, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Frank just claps him softly on the shoulder before going to get his weapons. Russo may have scoured the place when he killed him here but he hadn’t taken anything with him as far as the cache was concerned. Frank just loaded up with pistols, combat knives and a trusty rifle.

“Come on, Johnny girl. Let’s end this,” he says walking back in once he’d clipped his tactical vest into place.

He watches her eyes slide down towards the Punisher skull before looking back up.

“Is it wrong to say that’s a sexy look?” her mouth quirks into a smile. “Not the time, I know. Let’s skedaddle.”

 

**

 

Looking at the carousel again made Frank want to hurl, even though there had been nothing in his stomach for days.

The screams of his kids blended with the funfair music in his head until he was starting to sweat, his heart rate picking up. Were it not for John squeezing his arm gently, he might have had a panic attack right then and there.

He was glad he didn’t when he caught the glint of something shining behind one of the horses on the carousel. He shoved John to the side and dived to the right as bullets started spraying in their direction.  He hid behind a stationary ice cream truck whilst John flattened herself behind a dart throwing stand.

“Frankiieeeeeeee,” Russo calls out in a childish voice. “Is that you Frankie? Are you alive?”

“Surprise,” Frank growls back.

“You see, here’s the interesting thing,” Russo continues, taking pot shots whenever John looked around her cover. “You were dead, like…I killed you. I checked your pulse and then I dumped you in the river. There is no feasible way you should be alive right now, much less be in the condition to mount an assault. What’s the secret?”

“That’d be me,” John replies.

“So my hunch was right. Interesting. You know, you can give up the girl and we’ll call it even Frank.”

“Fuck naww,” Frank spits. “Ya think I’d let her get examined by you? Studied? Carved up? She’s nobody’s slave.”

“I can pay her well if that’s all you’re worried about.”

The voice is moving now, coming more towards the left and Frank knows Russo is trying to flank John. She’s just become the more interesting target.

He darts out from his hiding spot, letting a spray of bullets hail forth and one grazes Russo’s cheek, causing him to howl with indignation before charging at Frank. They meet in a messy grapple, both trying to reach for their combat knives but locking biceps and shoving with their elbows when someone would get too close.

A shot rings out and Russo yelps, his leg collapsing from under him as Frank turns to see John holding an old fashioned revolver that was smoking a little. She’d gotten him in the thigh, the blood starting to weep down but in the millisecond that Frank was turned away, Russo had grabbed his knife and was bringing it up towards Frank’s stomach.

Russo was knocked back, however, by something unseen. Frank could vaguely hear chanting coming from John’s direction but he couldn’t make the same mistake again to take his eyes away from the man before him.

“Get away from me!” Russo squeals, batting away some invisible monster. “Get away!”

He looked terrified. Frank assumes John must be giving him hallucinations because the screaming is getting louder and louder as Russo pleads with some unseen thing before his eyes fall on Frank, the knife clattering to the floor as he prostrates himself at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Frankie! I’m so sorry! I should never have ordered the hit! I did it though, I killed Rawlins for us. He kept calling us grunts like he did back in Kandahar. I couldn’t take it. I shot him. Does that help? Can it help you forgive me? Please! Please Frank!”

“Does it help? DOES IT HELP?!” Frank lost his head. “My wife n’ my kids are fuckin’ dead n’ you want my forgiveness? Forgive this Billy. I’m sorry I ever thought you were my friend.”

And he puts a bullet neatly into Russo’s brain, watching him pitch back onto the grass, that expression of terror burned onto his face forever.

“Are you okay?” John jogs over.

“Yeah, girl, m'fine,” Frank nods, throwing an arm around her. “Couldn’t let him get to ya.”

“Not like I can’t take care of meself but sure,” she nudges him with her head. “Best go before the fuzz show up, eh?”

“Is what he said true?” Frank asks. “Is Rawlins out?”

“Men don’t tend to lie when faced with the Veritas demon,” she looks at the body. “It has an uncomfortable habit of scaring folk into the truth.”

“I saw nothin’?”

“Good. If you had, I would be trying to piece your noggin back together,” she says a little grimly before tugging at his arm. “Come on, lad. I hear sirens.”

Frank just looks at the remnants of what used to be his friend before nodding slightly.

It was over. It was finally over.

 

**

 

After briefing Micro and watching the hacker practically run out of the hideout, they ended up back at the penthouse.

John tried her best to use a restoration spell but some of her carefully cultivated ingredients were lost forever. At least the furniture was back in place and the mess was vanished off into the void. It was presentable.

Frank dumps his tactical gear on the newly reformed couch before kicking off his heavy boots and beelining for John, pulling her into a long hug.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “Thank ya for helping me end it all.”

“Don’t thank me, Frank. The hard part comes next. Living with it,” John looks up, looking relieved and weary at the same time.

“Ain’t gonna be no problem with you around, I think,” Frank smiles and watches as John blushes furiously. “Goddamn you’re cute.”

“Piss off,” she scowls, tapping him on the chest playfully. “It’s been a long bloody day and I-”

She doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence. Frank’s leaned down and kissed her with such an urgency that her brain takes a holiday. She could practically feel his liberation from the passion he was putting behind it. John just allowed herself to get swept away.

“Sorry if this is forward but girl, I need you,” Frank murmurs next to her ear and John swears she feels this deep throb between her legs.

Sure, she’s had many sexual partners in her long life time but very few ever elicited this kind of immediate response without even touching her. Fewer still were the people who made her speechless when she was such a gobby person usually.

“Mmhmmm,” is all she manages, Frank taking off her coat before moving to the tie.

It becomes a blur of stripping clothes, a little clumsy in the execution, like the two were teenagers just discovering each other. Back down to their underwear, Frank hoists John up, carrying her through to the bedroom where he gently lays her down.

“Don’t be shy now,” she finds her voice as he pauses for a second.

“Not shy,” he smirks. “Just 'preciatin’. Now lemme guess. Ya always like calling the shots n’ gotta be hard n’ fast, right?”

“That is how it usually goes, yeah,” she replies warily.

“Not with me….least not today,” he grins. “When I say I need ya, I mean emotionally too. So I’m sorry if this ain’t to your tastes but-”

“Just touch me, Frank, I’m dying here,” John laughs, wiggling her hips against his groin in impatience.

“Shit,” Frank groans at the friction. “'Aight, ya make a good argument.”

There was something about Frank’s bulk that when he leaned down on John, she felt immensely small and vulnerable. It wasn’t a sensation she was used to. She was used to being the one in control, the big personality but Frank just exuded this kind of natural dominance that left her a bit reeling.

When he started placing soft kisses down her sternum, she just melted into the touch. It was so much more genuine than the people she used to pick up in bars and clubs. There was a real sense of connection that she hadn’t realised exactly how much she had missed. Could she really be so intimate though? Did she remember how?

Tentatively, her hand brushed through his short hair as he softly kissed at her scarred stomach and he purred his appreciation. She felt a little braver then and stopped his progress, tugging his shoulders so he came back up the bed and kissed him softly.

He deftly removed her bra in such a way that made John think he was a bit of a tearaway in his youth, before dragging her underwear off too until she was completely bare to him. It was more exposing in a way than with a one night stand. There was more at stake if he didn’t like what he saw.

“God I need ya so bad,” Frank rasps.

Well that quelled her inner insecurities fast. She grasped him to her, moving her body eagerly to meet his insistent touch.

“Well get your kecks off then,” she tugs at the waistband of his boxers.

He laughs a little before stripping out of them and settling back against her, his skin so so warm as he looks at her like she’s the most important thing in the world. Then she tries to urge him inside her, rolling her hips to meet his cock but he pulls away.

“Naww girl. Told ya. Ain’t gonna be like the others. I wanna enjoy you,” he smirks before moving slowly back and down in between her legs.

“Frank, don’t make me-”

But the protest dies in her throat as his broad tongue starts lapping oh so slowly and her legs shudder a little in his grip. She didn’t expect him to be so….good at this. Usually only lasses got the finer nuances of what made her fingers curl tightly around the slats in the headboard but he studied her reactions, his eyes barely leaving her face. Apparently his skills as a soldier were transferable in terms of assessment.

There was a tiny jolt as he lightly nipped at her but it pushed her further towards the edge. All she could hear was her own moans, mixed with the pounding of her heartbeat and the occasional dark chuckle from Frank when she was particularly loud.

“Fuck!” she cries as the band of pressure snaps and she cums hard, harder than she has in a long time, her legs feeling heavy and her body twitching in response.

“I fuckin’ love that sound,” Frank grunts before moving back up.

John just shucks down, earning a confused expression. Let it not be said that John was a selfish lover. She pushes him over to lie on his back before lapping a line up the length of his cock.

She was so rusty at this, barely having been with any men since Kit’s death but when he made such a deep growl as she took him completely in her mouth, she gained confidence until the old John, the suave John returned. All of her old tricks came back to her and his hands fisted in her hair when she took him deep into her throat and he let out a string of swearing.

“Jesus, fuck, shit, god….ya better stop that darlin’, I ain’t gonna last long otherwise,” he groans. “Get back up here.”

She obliged before he managed to flip her under him, kissing her languidly, holding her tightly in his arms. It was completely natural when his cock slid into her, causing her lips to part as she gasped into his kiss.

Jesus, this was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Surely at the ripe old age of sixty odd she shouldn’t be surprised by anything any more, right? But the way he was just so overwhelming in his attention, the gentle roll of his hips, the constant kisses, the stroking of her hair and the safety of his arms…..it was all so new.

Frank really was unique. He really did care for her.

“I love you.”

The words just slip out as she holds him close and she tenses, completely horrified at what she’s said. What a way to fuck this up already, eh?

_Good job, Johnny. Kill the mood why don’t you?_

But it doesn’t, he just lifts up, pressing his forehead to hers and she can see his eyes swimming with adoration, “Love you too, Johnny girl.”

His movements got more urgent, the thrusts deeper and he pulled her legs up to wrap around his back. She matched his thrusts, helping him chase his release.

“Fuck do I love ya,” he whispers as he pushes as deep as he can go, John feeling the warm sensation flood her as his cock twitched.

He doesn’t let her go for a while, just content to lie there, wrapped in her.

“That was…” John trails off, trying to get her breath back.

“Told ya,” he smiles warmly. “I mean I can do the whole fuck ya til ya scream shit but that ain’t the whole a’ me. Know what I mean? Just wanted to show ya how I feel. Real happy you feel the same.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” John shakes her head. “This is just asking for trouble, opening meself up again.”

“It’s not livin’ if you can’t love, John,” Frank touches his nose to hers. “It’s worth the risk sometimes.”

“Aye, course this means you can’t get rid of me now,” she grins. “You’ve signed up for this.”

“Whatever will I do?” Frank smirks.

“Could go for round two?”

“Girl, you’re gonna be the death a’ me.”

But he doesn’t say no.

  
  


**

  
  


Frank misses the target wildly, blowing the mannequin to bits.

“Bloody fucking hell, lad!” John says from the floor as she’s leapt out of the way. “Concentrate!”

“This shit is hard,” Frank scowls.

“Never said magic were easy,” she gets up, brushing her trousers off. “Sure you wanna continue learning?”

“Yeah, yeah I wanna. Told ya, wanna do what you do. Get another one up.”

“Bossy,” she tuts playfully at him before setting up another mannequin. “Now remember, you’re going for flames, not explosives. You wanna roast the thing.  _Influera._ ”

He repeats the word, concentrating and picturing how the action will go until he sees a jet of fire erupt from his hand, barrelling towards the mannequin and blackening the plastic until it starts melting.

“Wahey! You did it!” John claps before coming over and planting a big kiss on his cheek. “See? Not easy and you did it. You’ll be fighting demons in no time.”

“Ya think?” he grins stupidly at her.

“Yep, I’m proud of you,” she beams at him. “You’ve taken to this stupidly well.”

“Got a good teacher,” he nudges her before pulling her into his arms. “Sure ya ready to send me out there?”

“No but I have to trust that  _you’re_  ready. Can’t keep you locked away from every scary thing out there. Can’t be afraid that you’ll die all the time.”

“Already did n’ I came back. I’m not goin’ nowhere, Johnny girl,” he kisses her forehead.

Her text tone beeps out and she searches through her pockets, pulling out her phone and reading the screen.

“Chas has a vampire case for us. Shall we?”

“Yeah, together,” he nods.

“Together,” she smiles.


End file.
